Sixty Six
by Robin Sparrow
Summary: Begins at the end of Brotherhood episode 19, "Death of the Undying." A spontaneous act of kindness prolongs Barry's life, forging unlikely alliances and providing the opportunity for some very interesting - dare I say, killer? - conversations. Complete!
1. Spontaneous Salvation

So while I should be finishing up my _PotC: AWE_ fic, instead... I'm posting this. Oh well, I couldn't help myself, so sue me. At least I'm writing, right? Anyway, as the summary says, this is set at the end of episode 19 of the _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood_ anime, so if you haven't gotten that far yet, stop reading unless you want to ruin it for yourself (or unless you read the manga, in which case you are MUCH farther along than I am in the story). And yes, there is an original character in this fic... oh well. This isn't a romance thing, so don't worry, no makeout sessions between the OC and Barry. (Sadly...)

**A bit of background on the title**: Aside from being Barry's number, Sixty-six is also (according to Wikipedia) a _two-person_ trick-taking card game, the strategy of which involves using your own cards and the other player's bets to predict what is in the _other_ player's hand. So I'm not lazy - I chose a title with _meaning_. :3

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Barry (sadly), or Roy, or Ed or Al (also sadly), or any of the rest of the characters/places/plot of _Fullmetal Alchemist_. I DO own my very own state alchemist pocketwatch, and my OC... that's about it though. *sigh*

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**Chapter 1: Spontaneous Salvation**

"In the shape I'm in, I wonder if someone will fix me," he said to himself, the splintered pieces of his iron body trembling ever so slightly as he attempted, vainly, to move.

There was a scuffling noise; though his face was shattered, Barry could still see through one eye that his body had come back to find him. "Oh, you again," he said by way of greeting, almost cheerfully – then his body picked up the shard with the blood seal. For the first time in a long time, Barry felt something almost like fear, and he panicked. "What are you doing?" he cried as his body tapped a tentative nail against the seal. The answer was clear: his body intended to break the seal, and free itself of the burden of a separate soul. For once, the soul was at the mercy of the body. Barry, the real Barry, the soul, found himself at a disadvantage for the first time. "Stop that!"

Suddenly, somewhere beyond Barry's vision, someone clapped their hands. There was a blue flash, and suddenly the floor beneath Barry and his body bucked, sending the body flying against the far wall, where it collapsed, lying limp against the tile floor. It was unclear whether it was dead or merely knocked out, but at least, for the moment, it was rendered harmless.

Barry – the real Barry – longed to turn his head, to look around at his unexpected savior. "Why… WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? He was MY victim, MINE! I was going to chop him! You cheated me of my—"

"I just saved your life – if that's what you'd like to call it. You're welcome." Footsteps approached, and a woman's hands reached down and began to pick up the scattered pieces of his iron shell. Finally, she stepped into view.

Barry stared – as much as he could with only one working eye, anyway. "You… I've seen you…" He'd glimpsed the silver chain dangling from her pocket, leading no doubt to a silver pocket watch; she was a state alchemist, and though he didn't know her name, he was fairly sure she wasn't supposed to be on _his_ side. Then again, who was? "Why are you helping me? Wouldn't it have been easier to let me die? Not that I'm complaining, but I'm a bit confused, you see – I could have sworn you were on the good guys team."

She raised her eyebrows but did not bother to look at him as she continued to collect parts. "I am. Mostly. That doesn't mean that I was just gonna let your body kill you." She paused, considering her words, and shook her head, a small smile briefly crossing her lips.

Barry blinked. "Whyever not? Wouldn't it have been easier that way?"

"I guess it would have, if I wanted you dead."

"You mean you don't? My, my, my, you state alchemists really are a strange group of people. Between you, the shrimp with anger issues and the pyromaniac, you guys really have a freakshow thing going for you. What's in it for you, sweetheart? Gonna take me back to stay with Falman again? You know I really don't think he'd mind all that much if you just…"

"You talk too much," the woman said, her tone not quite as sharp as she'd meant it to be. "Just be thankful I'm bringing all of your parts, instead of just the seal." Taking off her coat and using it as a makeshift sack, she began stuffing pieces of him inside, taking care to collect every part – but moving, he noted, a tad nervously.

"You're not doing this for the state, are you?" Barry asked slyly, all fear forgotten in his curiosity. "Who are you working for?"

She hesitated. "I work for Roy Mustang," she answered eventually, "but I'm not doing this for him, or for the state."

"Who for, then? The lab people, perhaps?"

She snorted. "No, not for them. I'm not doing this for anyone. I'm just…" She glanced at him. "You know, you'd better be able to keep quiet when we get outside, or I'll never be able to sneak us out of here."

"Oooh, a secret mission, I'm intrigued! So you're doing this for yourself, are you? And just what are you hoping to gain from this little excursion? Hoping to find out more about my blood seal, perhaps? But then, couldn't you just ask Alphonse?"

"I could care less about your blood seal," she replied, but the care with which she slipped it into her jacket seemed to say otherwise. "I'm more interested in the soul it preserves."

"My soul?" Now he truly was fascinated; more than once he'd been kept alive for his talents, or the information he had, or even out of fear – but never because someone was interested in _him._ "What are you, a shrink or something?"

"Not hardly. State alchemist, remember?" Straightening up, she came to stand over him, looking down at him with an odd expression. He looked her over with his good eye, appreciating for the first time how tall she was – and pretty. She had short, reddish hair parted on the right side, obscuring one of her blue eyes, and a few freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. If he had been in any condition to do so, it would have been his pleasure to chop her up right then and there.

"My name's Kate Steele," she said. "The Reconstructing Alchemist." She reached down and picked up what was left of his head so that, for a moment, they were seeing eye-to-eye. "I might be the only one who could put you back together, so if I were you, I'd listen to me." Before he could answer, she shoved what proved to be the final piece into the makeshift bag. "Now, not another word until I say so, or we'll both be sorry."

And Barry, for once at a loss for words, decided, for the moment, to comply.

It was surprisingly easy to keep to the shadows and out of the way just long enough to make it past the scientists and MPs and eventually get back home to her apartment a few blocks from Central headquarters. Luckily, the others never knew she had been there visiting her brother, Connor, one of the scientists at Lab 3. As of yet, they didn't even know she had returned – she'd come back over a week ago from Rizembool, but sensing that something interesting was happening, had laid low, following both friends and suspects without letting anyone know she was back. She'd spent a month away in the automail-crazy city, learning what she could from the mechanics there. She was no amazing mechanic herself, but she felt it was good for her to learn all she could about her craft, even the parts that seemed to have nothing to do with alchemy. More often than not, even things that seemed irrelevant ended up somehow helping her after all, making her more creative, at the very least.

Her brother was the only person who had recognized her at the Lab, and knew she was back. But she had been on her way out when Barry had broken in – if luck was on her side, Connor believed she had already gotten home when that fiasco began, rather than having stopped outside for a moment to watch the people passing by – and running by, when Roy and company had arrived. She was certain no one knew of her presence, or that she'd scaled the wall and had been poised outside the window, that entire time, her gun trained on Lust – until Roy had done her work for her. She'd waited then, listening rather than interrupting, and keeping an eye out all the while for Barry's body, which she knew from watching them must have been lurking around somewhere. From Al and from her own reading, she had a vague idea of what had happened to Barry's body and soul - and, having heard his voice before in the past when he had been arrested, she remembered exactly who Barry the Chopper was. Even back then, he had fascinated her.

Luckily for his soul, she'd kept her post outside the window even when the others had left, knowing somehow he'd show up again – and she was ready for it when he finally did.

Now, she quickly let herself into her apartment, amazed that Barry had followed her orders so well and kept silent throughout the whole journey. In spite of his devil-may-care attitude, it seemed he really did have some desire, at least, to be fixed.

When the door was locked again behind her, she headed straight for what once might have been a guest bedroom, but was transformed under her presence into a workshop where she kept all her unfinished projects – things she found, and practiced mending in her free time. There were three tables, plus an empty space at the back for larger items; with a sweeping motion, she swept aside numerous half-repaired articles on one of the tables, and dumped the scraps of Barry's body onto the space she'd made.

"Hey, watch it!" he complained loudly, breaking his silence at last as he clattered onto the table.

"What, are you afraid I'll break something?" She lifted up a loose screw pointedly and shot a look at his good eye, which stared up at her from amongst the shards. "I couldn't do much more damage to you if I tried."

"Oh, but you could," he remarked, unable to help himself, and glanced toward his blood seal.

"After all the trouble I went through to get you here in one… well, alive? Come on." And yet, as if drawn to it, she reached out a hand, and touched the seal, lightly, with a single fingertip, taking care not to smudge it.

Barry shuddered a little, unable to decide whether it was out of pain or simply the shock of being touched somewhere he could actually _feel_ it. "Hey, hey, be CAREFUL with that!"

Her eyebrows arched up, as if she had noticed the shudder and found it interesting. "You can feel this, can't you?" She pressed her finger against the seal again, only a little harder than before, and he made a shocked noise halfway between a yelp and a shriek. She moved her hand away, and gave him a thoughtful look. "Huh. And I thought people like you weren't supposed to be able to feel anything at all."

For a moment he was silent, watching her as she turned and headed for the door. Then, "I'm not! I can't!" he protested, and she glanced over her shoulder at him in mild surprise. "I'm invincible! In this body, I am immortal!"

"Invincible, eh?" Again, she looked over his broken parts pointedly. "A lot of good _that's_ done you." Stepping out, she began to close the door. "Good night."

"Wait – where are you going? Aren't you going to fix me?!"

"Not tonight. I've got to get some sleep, so I can walk into headquarters in the morning without having to explain what kept me up all night."

"You're leaving me here – like THIS? A pile of JUNK?"

She shrugged. "Well, yes. For now, anyway. And don't even _think_ about trying to keep me up until I fix you, because then I _will_ break that seal of yours."

"You wouldn't!" he yelped, but the door had already closed behind her with a resolute thud, and he knew that, whether he liked it or not, he was in for a long night, alone on the table with the rest of the scrap metal. He sighed, thinking longingly of his butcher-knife, and wondering if she'd been so kind as to pick that up for him, too.


	2. Check In at HQ

Ah, an explanation as to why Kate can just clap her hands and perform transmutations. Don't worry, it's much simpler than it seems. ;)

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, blah blah blah.

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**Chapter 2: Check-In at HQ**

A few hours past dawn, he heard water running in one of the other rooms. "Ah, you're awake," he called out sweetly. "Took your time, but that's all right, not like I'm especially ANXIOUS or anything for you to put me back together. No, I quite LIKE being a pile of junk, really, I do! Now would you GET IN HERE AND FIX ME ALREADY?!"

No answer came, and he sighed, realizing that in all likelihood, she hadn't heard him at all over the water of the shower. He waited for what seemed like forever, listening to the running water and cursing her every which way for taking her time when she should have been fixing him.

Eventually, the water stopped, and after a few minutes of shuffling and clattering, he heard a door open somewhere in the apartment. Footsteps followed, and after a moment, she appeared in the doorway, a half-eaten piece of toast in her hand, wearing a clean white t-shirt and blue jeans. She leaned against the doorframe. "Morning, sunshine."

He glared at her – or would have, if enough of his face had been intact to make a proper expression. As it was, he settled for sending her the evil eye. "You certainly took your time."

She smiled slightly. "Yes. I _thought_ I heard somebody whining. What's the matter, have bad dreams of junk yards and garage sales?"

"In case you forgot," he snapped, "I can't dream!"

She paused, and he could see in her hesitation that she honestly _had_ forgotten. "Oh. Right. Well, at least you had the rest of the scraps to keep you company."

Barry's pieces twitched furiously. "I'm not a scrap! I'm Barry the Butcher – Barry the Chopper! I live to kill, kill, kill!"

"Good thing for me you can't move, then," she remarked, to his chagrin.

"Well, you're going to fix that – aren't you?"

"We'll see. After all, I don't want you chopping me the instant I repair you. That would be kind of a drag." She kept her tone light, but he could tell what she was really thinking: if she fixed him, he would be able to kill again, not just her, but others, like before. She was second-guessing her actions.

He couldn't let her change her mind. Who else was there to help him? "You know, if you can't fix me, you should just say so…" he said, hoping he'd hit a nerve.

"Psh. Didn't I tell you? I'm the Reconstructing Alchemist. If I can't put you back together, Humpty, then no one can – not all the king's horses, or all the king's men. Fixing disasters like you is my specialty."

"I see. And when exactly were you planning on proving this, hmm? Sometime in this lifetime, perhaps?"

"Mine, or yours?" she shot back, but she took the hint. "I'm thinking of starting tonight."

"Tonight?! Why not now?"

"I told you, I've got to show up at headquarters. Hopefully I won't be home too late." Finishing off the last of her toast, she approached the table he lay on, looking thoughtful again. "But I guess I do feel a bit bad for you… Here, I can do this for you, at least." Sorting through the pieces, she found (with an odd sort of ease, as if she had known exactly what to look for) a few shards which might have belonged to his face. She pushed them close to his good eye. Then she held up her hands, and for a moment he glimpsed a pair of blue tattoos of transmutation circles on her palms; then she clapped and pressed her hands to his face, and he yelped.

There was a flash of blue light, and when it was over, she stepped back to admire her work. "Not much, but that's as much as I trust you with while I'm gone." His upper face, and the top of his head, had been perfectly restored. Now he could see out of both eyes.

"Why… ah, thank you," he said as she headed for the door. "Why not – er, my arm perhaps? Or a leg?"

"See you later," she called over her shoulder, and was gone. He sighed, and had to satisfy himself with daydreaming about his good old days as a complete suit of armor until she returned.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"That's some story," Kate said when Roy had finished the tale of what had happened in Lab 3. "Poor Havoc. Where is he right now? I'd like to visit him when I get the chance."

"He's in room 24, in the general hospital," Roy answered, his face an unreadable mask. She wondered if, like always, he blamed himself for Havoc's current state. She couldn't have known that, as he watched her, he was deciding whether or not to tell her Havoc was paralyzed. In the end, he decided against it, figuring she'd find out soon enough on her own. "There was something odd, though, that happened after everyone cleared out. Barry's body went missing – not just parts, but all of it. It was as if he just got up and walked out of there, but there was no way he could have put himself back together."

"That is odd," she said, keeping a straight face. "What about his body?"

"While it, too, is missing," Roy said, "it is highly doubtful it would have taken the time to gather all the pieces and carry them away. It seemed rather intent on attacking the soul as soon as possible. Besides, we have reason to believe… others… are in possession of the body, although to what purpose is unclear." She didn't have to ask to understand that by "others" he meant people like Lust – Homunculi.

Kate thought it over, trying to seem merely curious rather than nervous. "Perhaps another one like Lust was there?"

"Possibly," he agreed, but she could tell he didn't think too much of that possibility. "Or maybe there was someone else there entirely, someone we didn't notice at the time. Your brother, Connor, says he saw you last night at the lab, only an hour before the incident."

"Connor?" She tried her best to keep her cool, but things were looking a lot less sunny now that her brother was in the picture. "When did you talk to him?"

"He spoke to us last night after the incident. He was worried about you – he wanted to know if we'd seen you during the fight. I told him you were probably home, safe and sound. He didn't try to call you?"

"He probably did," she sighed, feeling a bit guilty. "But I sleep like the dead; I guess I just didn't hear it. I'll call him back later."

"Since you were there, though," Roy continued, before she could rise from her seat and escape, "I've been meaning to ask you. You didn't see anyone suspicious enter the building before you left, did you? Someone who might have been inclined to help Barry get away?"

She hesitated, then hoped he hadn't noticed. "No, not that I can recall. You know me – if I had, I probably would have followed." She smiled weakly.

He did not return the gesture. "Of course." With a nod, he dismissed her, and she walked away feeling uncomfortable, as if he knew exactly what she was up to, even though that was impossible. Even she couldn't have predicted she'd find herself in her current situation; it was downright crazy to think someone might actually _expect_ it of her. No, she decided, Roy knew nothing. Determined not to let it distract her, she headed back out of the building, on her way to go visit Havoc.


	3. The Beauty of the Butcher's Knife

Obviously I've been working on this fic in secret for some time now. I've got almost twenty pages of it already. Wonder how long it'll end up being?

**Disclaimer**: FMA does not belong to me. Yadda yadda yadda.

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**Chapter 3: The Beauty of the Butcher's Knife**

Kate came home that night feeling more tired than she could ever remember feeling in her entire life. Central was a mess, Scar was still on the loose, and Havoc – poor Havoc – was temporarily out of action, resigned to a wheel-chair until Roy could find a way to help him. She'd wanted so much to fix him, but such miracles were far beyond even her considerable skills. The Elric brothers were, as usual, up to their necks in trouble, Connor had sounded like a madman, he was so worried on the phone, and Elysia and Mrs. Hughes still had that haunted look, that obvious empty feeling that something was missing, and could never be replaced.

She walked into her workshop and sat down at one of the tables without a thought, content for the moment to simply lower her head onto the table, and close her eyes.

"You look tired," said Barry; Kate jumped, having forgotten all about him until he spoke. "Not too tired to fix me, I hope."

She shot him an irritated look. "Patience is a virtue, buddy. You don't want me to fix you in a state like this – goodness knows what I'd end up making you into."

Barry looked taken aback. "Yes, well, I would rather like to keep the body I've got, if that's all right with you," he said, a little nervously. "But it would be nicer still if it were actually – you know – WHOLE."

"Yeah, well, there's a lot of things I'd like to have, but you don't see me complaining," she retorted, resting her head back on the table. "Now shush for a moment. Just… let me breathe."

"Bad day at work, huh? You know, I find that the best thing for days like that is just to go and CHOP SOMETHING UP. It's quite soothing, actually – therapeutic, you might even say."

She looked over her crossed arms at him with skeptical, blood-shot eyes. "You're sick," she said at last, resting her chin on her hands so that they faced each other on the same level.

"I'm not sick, I'm honest," he replied matter-of-factly. "Deep inside, we all want to kill – most people just don't want to admit it. But I _live_ for the kill – the sheer beauty of the massacre, the indescribable delight of watching your victims fall one by one… My life is the life people want, but are too scared to actually live out. I kill, therefore I AM!"

She stared at him, for all appearances totally unimpressed by his tirade. "Is that so?"

"What do you mean, 'is that so'?!" he exclaimed, clearly distressed. "I tell you I'm a ruthless killing machine, and all you can say is, 'is that so?' Just who do you think you are?"

"An honest woman who, believe it or not, _doesn't_ believe you when you say everyone's a killer. Take me, for example – I've never killed someone, even though I'm a state alchemist. I make it my business to _fix_ things, people included. There are destroyers, there are bystanders, and there are creators. You're a destroyer. Me, I'm a creator."

"You're wrong," Barry said, almost mockingly. "Deep down, you know you want it too – you just don't want to say it because that would be crazy and 'wrong.' Pick up my knife if you don't believe me." He hoped now, more than ever, that she had indeed brought it with her.

To his surprise, she had. Reaching beyond his line of vision, she picked it up and brought it closer for inspection. Though he had taken fairly good care of it, there were still some bloodstains along the blade, and all over the handle as well. He sighed, watching it fondly as it reflected the dim light above them.

"Do you feel it?" he said, a deeper, darker tone cutting in on the edge of his voice now. "Do you feel the power, the exquisite thrill? Go on, go on, chop something – I tell you, it does wonders for the soul."

She ran a finger along the flat edge of the blade, looking almost entranced. "So this is the knife you used to kill all those people? What was it, twenty?"

"Twenty _three_," he said proudly, "not counting the people who tried to break into Lab 5. Oh, it's such a lovely knife too, don't you think? All shiny and sharp and… utterly wonderful."

She paused, blinked, and stared at him, the spell completely broken. "You really are sick, you know that?" She dropped the knife on the table which such carelessness as to make him cringe.

"Well, what do you expect, sweetheart? I'm a butcher, not a baker."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I get to CHOP CHOP CHOP—"

"All right, all RIGHT! I'm sorry I asked!" she interrupted, exasperated. "Although," she said suddenly, her voice filled with intrigue, "this _is_ a rare opportunity…"

"Opportunity? For what? Fixing me?" He watched her hopefully.

She snorted. "No, not that. Well – yes, that will be a good challenge – but that's not what I meant. It's just… it's not every day a girl has a serial killer in her house that can't do a thing to hurt her, no matter what. I think… I think I will keep you around for a bit, after all."

"Whaaaat? What about fixing me? I need to be whole, I need to be mobile, I need to KILL!"

"Why are you in such a rush? It's not like you're getting any older here. You've got plenty of time."

"But limited patience! My dear, do you understand how incredibly TERRIBLE it is to be trapped like this, in pieces, when I should be out, prowling the streets, slicing, dicing and – most of all – chopping? It's like a bomb that can't explode, or a gun without ammo, or…"

"I get it, I get it!" she cut in. "But consider this: for now, at least, no one else knows you're alive. No one else knows where to find you. Isn't it nice, to know that you don't have to worry about getting caught? And the longer you stay hidden, the less effort they'll put into looking for you. It's a dream come true, for a guy like you."

"Hmmm, this IS an interesting situation," he conceded thoughtfully. "But, out of curiosity…. Why, exactly, do you want to keep me around? Most people find me annoying at best – and TERRIFYING at worst!" He laughed hysterically.

She ignored the laughter. "Exactly that – curiosity. Like I said, it's not everyone who gets to have a nice chat with a serial killer, and lives to tell the tale. I want to know… why."

"Why what?"

"Why you want to kill people. Why you think everyone else is just like you. I want to know what broke you, because…" She stopped suddenly, looking alarmed.

But too late; he knew already where she had been headed. "Oh ho ho, this is wonderful! The Reconstructing Alchemist, you said? I get it now – you're one of _those_ people. You just can't stand seeing something broken – you just _have_ to fix it! It's not your gift – it's your curse!" He laughed, a cruel edge making his voice harsher than before. "You saw me on the floor in the lab, and you just couldn't stand it. You thought I looked like a challenge, so you brought me home, to your little Santa's workshop, to see if you could fix me – not for MY sake, but just to see if you really were that good. But you weren't just looking at my body, were you? You think you can save my soul – redeem me, I suppose, or some such foolishness. You just don't get it, do you? I'm not the one who needs fixing – YOU are!"

The color left her cheeks, and she stared at him, unable to hide the fact that he had gotten to her. He laughed again, triumphantly, and waited eagerly for her response.

His anticipation faded, however, when instead of speaking, she picked up the metal scrap with his blood seal.

"Now, uh, I didn't mean anything by that," he amended quickly. "Just a casual observation. Hope I didn't hurt your feelings or anything. Nothing to do anything reckless over – nothing worth getting back at me for, surely? Right?"

She sent him another one of her odd, unnamable looks. "You really think I'd do it, don't you?" Her fingers hovered over the transmutation circle. "You really think I'd kill you, as easy as that." She pressed her finger, gently, against the seal, and he unsuccessfully attempted to suppress a groan. It wasn't that it hurt, exactly, but it was uncomfortable, that feeling of having his life – more than that, his very _soul_ – in someone else's hands.

"Stop that stop that stop that!" he yelped when she traced its edges, lightly, with her finger. "It's weird and it feels funny and it's… WEIRD!"

She laughed, some of the darkness leaving her eyes, and she put the seal back down and leaned back in her chair, her eyes on his. "Lucky for you, I'm _not_ like you. I wouldn't."

He sighed, relieved. "But you wanted to," he said after a moment. "You wanted to, didn't you?"

She looked at him calmly, thinking it over. "Actually – I didn't. I felt like I should have; after all, you are a murderer, not to mention a complete creep. I'd probably be doing the world a favor. But… I couldn't bring myself to _want_ to. Killing people – it's not really my thing, I guess."

"Whyever not?" he demanded. "It's wonderful fun – you should try it sometime."

"I think I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you," she said wryly. "Our ideas of fun are kind of at opposite ends of the spectrum, I think."

"Fine, be that way – but you're missing out!" Barry teased; she only shook her head.

"I don't suppose you could tell me _why_ you think it's so fun – without going into one of your mad rants again?"

"Why? WHY? I'll tell you why – because the feel of blood between my fingers, the utter joy of feeling a knife slice through flesh, the completely delicious satisfaction of taking a life – it makes me feel ALIVE!" he crowed; she imagined that, if he had his whole body, he would have been flailing his arms about in all sorts of wild gestures at this point.

"What did I say about ranting?" she chided. "Now, let me see… so you're saying, in simple terms, that killing makes you feel… alive."

"That's right! Nothing is more exciting, more thrilling, more – fun! It's the difference between living and not and it's absolutely fantastic! You haven't lived…"

"…Until you've killed." She paused. "Or is it… you haven't lived – until you've died?"

"Hmm, a fascinating idea. I've never thought of it before. Something to mull over, I suppose, whilst you continue _not fixing me_."

"Yep. You can think about it all you like tomorrow, while I take care of some paperwork." She stood and stretched, having had enough of Barry for one night.

"You're leaving? So soon? It's hardly dark out!" Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed eleven. She put a hand on her hip, caught between amusement and annoyance. "What am I supposed to do to entertain myself if I can't even move?"

"Here." She put his knife where he could see it, the moonlight from a nearby window reflecting off of its metal when she turned out the lights inside. "You can admire it, or whatever it is you did today while I was gone. See you tomorrow morning." She closed the door behind her without waiting for a reply – a wise decision, as Barry was already completely lost in thought, contemplating the beauty of the butcher-knife.


	4. A Deal with the Devil

What's that? More Barry the Chopper insanity? That's what you want? You got it! :D

**Disclaimer**: As per usual, I own nothing.

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**Chapter 4: A Deal with the Devil**

"So the first person you murdered was your wife?"

"Well, you're not one to beat around the bush, are you?" Barry chuckled. "Yes, my wife – she was nagging me about something, can't remember what, and I just… accidentally chopped her up. It just sort of, happened, you know?" Her blank stare said it all: no, she didn't know. "Well, anyway, yes, she was the first one. And once I had tried it, I had to have more – more, more, MORE!"

"So… you're addicted to killing? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Addicted's such a negative word. I prefer _obsessed_."

"And you don't miss your wife at all? You don't regret a single murder?"

"What's there to regret? I'm Barry the Butcher, Barry the Chopper – I live to kill!"

"But she was your_ wife_. Isn't there some reason you married her in the first place? Didn't you at least love her at first?"

He paused. "You know, I can't remember anymore!"

Kate tilted her head, frowning. "You don't remember? Not even your wedding day – surely you remember that, at least?"

Barry twitched a little, attempting without success to shake his head. "Nope, not a thing!"

She stared at him for a moment. "I don't buy it."

"What?"

Her cobalt eyes stared at him shrewdly. "Either you don't remember anything at all before you killed her, or you remember and just don't want to talk about it. Which is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" he said airily, but when she continued to gaze at him coldly, without speaking, he sighed and gave in grudgingly. "I suppose – I do remember, a tad," he said, a sly edge suddenly sharpening his tone. "Although I think it might be easier to remember… if I had a complete face."

Her eyebrows arched up considerably at this, and she couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Did you really just say that? That was possibly the _worst_ attempt at manipulation I have ever witnessed in my entire life. Did you really think that would work?"

"Yes," said Barry, the confidence in his voice shattering hers. "I did."

"But – that's ridiculous," she countered, his conviction giving her an uneasy feeling. "I told you I'd fix you when I felt like it, and not before."

"And I don't have to talk until_ I_ feel like it," he replied; if he'd had a full face, he would have smirked. "I'm not asking for anything too ridiculous, my dear… simply a fair trade. I'll talk, answer everything you like – and in return, you will fix me up a little each day, until I'm good as new."

Kate fumbled for an advantage. "You're underestimating me, buddy. You forget that I don't have to fix you – for that matter, I could _destroy_ you anytime I felt like it." She touched the piece with his bloodseal pointedly.

He shivered, but lost none of his bravado. "But you won't, will you?"

She drew back a little, shocked. "What?" Just the night before he had been preaching the beauty of murder, and the idea that every single person wanted to kill, including her. Now he was saying she wouldn't do it – when, according to logic, he was exactly the kind of person she _should_ kill? "I thought we were all killers, even me?"

"Oh, but you misunderstand!" Barry replied. "I'm not saying you don't want to – I'm saying you won't. Not for a lack of desire to, but because you want to get inside my head, and the only way you can do that is if you keep me alive. As long as I have information you want, I get to live. And as long as you refuse to fix me, I won't talk."

His smugness was both infuriating and a little frightening – although, she had to admit, he had been given a lot of time to think. _Big mistake,_ she thought, though how she could have avoided it, she didn't know. "What makes you think I'd agree to this?"

"You're an alchemist, right? What's that ridiculous little phrase you people always toss around? Ah, yes – _equivalent exchange_." His eyes seemed to gleam in the dark, in spite of being nothing more than empty sockets. "I give you what you want, and you give me what I want. Sounds fair to me!"

She gaped. In some strange, twisted way, he was, she saw, kind of right. And though she hated to admit it, it really was equivalent; her desire to understand him may have been almost as strong as his desire to be whole again. _You're sick,_ she thought, but she wasn't thinking it about him. "I suppose… that you have a point."

"And…?" he prompted eagerly.

"And…" She sighed, passing a hand over her face tiredly, wondering what in hell was wrong with her. _Roy is gonna kill me if he ever finds out._ "All right, Barry. Dammit, you win. I'll do it."

He laughed triumphantly. "Beautiful! Wonderful! I can't tell you how happy this makes me!" When she did not move, however, his joy began to fade. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

She gave him a wry smile. "Your part of the bargain. You talk first, and then, depending on what the information's worth, I'll decide how much and what part of you to fix. That's _my_ deal – take it or leave it."

Barry growled, his voice full of fury and vexation. "All right! All right! Fine, have it your way!" he exclaimed. "What would you like to know, my little extortionist?"

She sat back, propping her feet up on the table near his face as she leaned back in her chair, glad to have reclaimed at least a little power over the situation. "I believe we were talking about your wife?" Then she caught herself; if she was going to play this game with him, she had to remember the rules – and she had to be very, very careful. "No – wait. That information is too valuable to start out with. I need to make this last." Ignoring his protests, she cocked her head, considering her options. "How about… the execution? You were supposed to have been killed. Why did they do this to you instead?"

"You mean you haven't already heard?" he asked, surprised. "Communication within the military really isn't very good, is it?" She frowned. "I'm surprised the Colonel didn't tell you himself. Or Falman, or Hawkeye."

_They all knew? Where was I?_ She winced; she had been in Rizembool when she obviously should have stayed in Central. "Looks like I missed out on all the fun," she mused, ignoring her initial, stupid hurt feelings in favor of fascination. "So fill me in."

For the second time, Barry relayed everything he had told Colonel Mustang and Falman; the secrets of Lab 5, the use of criminals to forge a philosopher's stone, and how he had served as a guard for the lab as a suit of armor, rather than being executed. When he was done, Kate sat in awe, openmouthed and dumbstruck, her face sheet-white.

"You mean to tell me… the military…" She couldn't even finish the sentence. It was not that she mistrusted Roy or the rest of the gang for not telling her; more than likely, Roy figured the fewer people that knew, the better. After all, hadn't Hughes been killed for knowing too much? Nor did she think for a minute that any of them had been in on this; no, what was really disturbing was what their innocence meant: this had come from higher up. Much higher up.

She'd heard of corrupt governments, but this was a whole other level.

"Now _that_," Barry said, "must have been worth at least half my body."

She blinked, brought back to the present by his voice, and forced herself to focus on his words. When she had processed what he said, she chuckled.

"What?" he demanded, his tone hinting slightly at desperation. "What are you laughing at? That was valuable information!"

"Not to _me_," she replied coolly, all traces of her momentary horror nearly completely erased from her features – though her eyes still looked spooked. "This is all about _you_, remember? All that stuff about the experiments and the military had nothing to do with you, so it doesn't count. All you really told me was that you've been working as a guard dog in Lab 5, having had your soul ripped from your body courtesy of the military. Which is interesting enough," she conceded, "though it's certainly not worth half your body."

As he rattled off indignant protests, she looked over his fragments, knowing she had to choose wisely. If she put him together too quickly, gave him the wrong body parts back too soon, he could easily kill her during the night.

Then she remembered watching Alphonse and Edward spar, training during their breaks. She remembered Ed knocking Al's head off, and laughing when his brother's headless body chided him for making him dig through the bushes to find it again. Smiling to herself, Kate reached for Barry's jaw.

"What's so amusing?"

Instead of answering, she pulled his jaw closer to his face; clapping her hands, she placed them on him, and with a flash of light, reconnected the lower half of his head to the upper half. Still, that wasn't much; as Barry was quick to point out, it wasn't quite equivalent.

So she scooped together some more pieces; putting them together in a pile, she repeated the transmutation process, and when she was done, a fully formed right hand lay on the table between them.

Barry laughed hysterically. "Ah, at last! My hand! Now I can get my knife, and…" He stopped suddenly, looking frustrated. Kate watched with amusement as he stared at his hand, obviously trying to move it. "Hey… hey, what gives?" His eyes met hers, and his expression turned black when he realized what she had already remembered. "You… you devious little…"

"You can't move anything not attached to your bloodseal, can you?" she asked, folding her arms with a look of satisfaction. "I thought so. This will make things considerably easier for me."

"But – but that's not fair!" Barry sputtered. "You… you said—"

"I haven't broken the rules," she said. "I agreed to fix you a little bit at a time, in return for you answering my questions. I never said what parts, in what order, or that I would allow you to _move_ said parts once I'd fixed them."

"But what good is that to ME?!" Barry demanded hysterically. "WHAT GOOD IS A BODY I CAN'T USE?!"

"Well, at least you can move your whole face now," she replied. Stretching, she yawned, and rose from her chair. "And eventually, when I've put all of the rest of your body back together, I won't have anything left to do but attach your head – and then you'll be able to move everything. That way, I keep my promise, but I don't have to worry about being murdered in my bed during the night."

"We'll see about that," Barry retorted, but it was an empty threat and they both knew it.

Kate patted his head patronizingly and headed for the door. "Thanks for an interesting night, Barry," she said over her shoulder. "Good night."

"Wait! Don't you want to know more? Then you can fix more of me!" he called after her, but it was no use. She shut the door behind her with a thud like a period at the end of a sentence; she was done, and he would not see her again till morning. He sighed. "Well," he said to himself, "at least I've got a face, and a hand. And I can still see my beautiful knife…"

Outside the door, Kate stood stock-still, her shoulders squared and her muscles taut. She had held out just long enough to fool Barry, but now that he could not see her, she could feel the tears pricking at her eyes, her heart weighing heavy and miserable in her chest. _Connor,_ she thought despairingly, _you couldn't have… could you?_ Yet there was no reason for Barry to lie, and every reason to believe her brother knew something of what the killer had told her. She tried to step away from the door, but instead crumpled to her knees, covering her face with her hands as she tried to smother the sounds of her anguish. Her own brother… could it be? And yet… how could it _not_ be?

Before being assigned to Lab 3, Connor had worked in another of the military's laboratories, one which Kate had heard all too much about lately; now, she wished she had never heard of it at all. Before his current position, Kate's older brother had been a scientist in none other than… _Lab 5_.


	5. The Right Hand of Death

Muahahaha. Plot twists, I love you so. :D

**Disclaimer**: Kate and Connor are mine... the rest? Not so much.

* * *

** Chapter 5: The Right Hand of Death**

"Something the matter, Steele?" The Colonel's voice had the same effect that cold water had on a sleeping man; she jerked up right, biting her tongue to keep from sputtering stupid excuses as she scrambled to appear as though she had been working on her paperwork all along.

"I… well…" She had decided earlier that morning she would see Roy and confront him about Lab 5 – she just had not quite gotten around to it yet. She certainly hadn't expected him to come to her. "No, sir. Just had trouble sleeping last night."

He gave her a look. "I see."

"Uh, Roy – actually, I did mean to speak with you later, time permitting…"

"What were you waiting for, an invitation?" He motioned for her to get up, knowing as well as she did she was getting nothing productive done just then anyway.

She followed him, feeling a little like a prisoner being led to her execution. _Quit that, it's not like you're in trouble or anything,_ she told herself sternly, and followed him into the office.

Once inside, he sat down behind his desk, his face as impassive as ever, and she took her customary place standing across from him, in front of the desk. "Sir…"

"Yes, Steele?"

"I was wondering – if you could tell me about Lab 5."

Roy frowned. "Why? What do _you_ know about Lab 5?"

Kate's eyes widened as she mentally backtracked, realizing too late she should not have known to ask about it in the first place. "I… uh…"

"Were you talking with Fullmetal about this?"

"Edward?" _Ed knows too? What the hell?_ "No, sir. Just… call it intuition. I want to know what my brother was up to while he worked there."

"Your brother worked in Lab 5?" Roy's eyes narrowed. "Not the best working conditions."

"I need to know what he did there, what he was responsible for. If you don't know, then point me to someone who would."

"There aren't many people left who would know that," he said, looking suddenly more suspicious of her than ever. "So I have to wonder what made _you_ think of it in the first place."

The tension hung in the air, too heavy to breathe and too palpable to ignore. Kate gritted her teeth, searching for an answer – only to be saved at the last minute by the appearance of Falman in the doorway. "Sir!" he saluted, and before Roy could order her to stay, Kate escaped, slipping past the soldier and out of the office in a flash. She took a deep breath, relishing the weightlessness of the atmosphere outside Roy's office, and trotted down the hall, not pausing once as she headed out of headquarters, unaware of her destination except that it was _away_.

Her relief, however, was brief; it dissipated quickly in the face of reason, when at last it returned to her. _I'm going to have to face him again,_ she thought with a sinking feeling, picturing the Colonel's furious face. _And when I do, I'll have to tell him something._

But when she asked herself _what_ she would tell him, she had no answer. So she decided, having no better option, that she would very conveniently fall sick that night, not deathly ill but bad enough to not have to show up at headquarters the next day. It was a quick-fix, she knew, but it would have to do until she found a better solution.

Faced with an unplanned free afternoon to herself, Kate wondered what she should do. Connor's face flashed behind her eyes, and she flinched – but if she was going to call in sick the next day, she had better get such things over with before then. Her stomach twisting in knots, she turned her feet in the direction of Lab 3, dreading what would no doubt be the worst conversation she had ever had with her brother – or, hopefully, ever would.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Connor, I need to…"

"Katie!" Before she could finish, her brother's strong arms were around her, all but crushing the life out of her as he hugged her to him. "I'm so glad you're back, so glad you're all right! I know you said you were fine, but I know you tend to understate these things…"

"Connor…"

"I just needed to see you for myself, Katie. I'm your big brother, and it's my job to make sure you're all right…"

"Connor!"

"Yeah?"

"I can't breathe!"

"Oh!" Grinning sheepishly, he released her, his round-framed glasses askew and his short, ruddy hair – as always – a mess. "Sorry, Katie – eh, Kate," he amended, noticing her glare. She hated when he called her that, though she'd loved it when she was a kid. "It's just… you know…" He shrugged helplessly.

She shook her head, her blue eyes so much like her brother's as they sparked, briefly, with pleasure. "It's good to see you too, Connor." And, in other circumstances, it would have been true. "I didn't come here just to visit, though."

Sensing the gravity of the situation, Connor's countenance transformed to match, his mirth quickly replaced with concern. "Something wrong? Are you all right?"

"I need to talk to you," she said, rather than answering. "Somewhere private. Somewhere _very_ private. It's important."

He glanced back at the lab behind him with a hint of longing; he hated being torn away from his work. "All right," he said at length. "They won't miss me if I get away for a few minutes. We can talk in my office."

"No." Kate didn't trust the lab any more than she trusted most of headquarters, now that she knew how deep the treachery went. She didn't want to take the chance of it being monitored. "Take a drive with me."

He followed her out to her car, keeping quiet until the doors were locked and they were on the road. "So what is this about? Why all the secrecy?"

"I…" She swallowed hard, took a breath, and tried again. "This is about Lab 5."

She watched out of the corner of her eye for a reaction, and was rewarded with a glimpse of his face going pale, his eyes guarded and distant. "What about Lab 5?"

"I heard a rumor that some bad things happened there. Some _very_ bad things."

"What?! Where did you hear such rumors?"

"That's not important. What is important is what your involvement was." She glanced at him. "Connor, assuming I know everything, just tell me… did you have anything to do with it?"

He shook his head stubbornly. "I don't know what you're talking about, Katie. Lab 5 was just another alchemical lab, same as Lab 3 and the rest." He tried to sound convincing, but his hands were shaking; Kate could see them in her peripheral vision as he folded them, trying to appear steady.

She bit her tongue. "Yes you do. You know exactly what I'm talking about. I know what happened, Connor – I know all about the philosopher's stones they were making – including the ingredients." She felt the blood draining from her own cheeks as she tried, with little success, not to dwell on the idea. "What was your job? Was it just to keep quiet, or was it more than that?"

Connor gaped at her. "Who – who told you such lies?!" he cried, sounding desperate. "Katie, you know me – I would _never_…"

"Wouldn't you? Under the proper circumstances, a _lot_ of people are capable of a _lot_ of things they never believed they could be forced to do. Connor, tell me the truth."

"I…" He stopped, seeing the look on her face, and reconsidered the lie he was about to try. He was silent for a long time. When at last he spoke again, his voice was low and quiet, his head bowed as he admitted the truth at last. "It's true, Kate. I don't know who told you, or how you got them to, but it's true. We were making Philosopher's Stones, and I… I was a part of it.

"At first, it wasn't all that bad. At first it was just researched – that's all I signed up for," he sighed. "Research. We were just trying to find out what the ingredients were. It took a long time, but finally someone – not me, I'm afraid – discovered the truth. It needed humans."

"Did you ask to be transferred then?" Kate asked, her own voice soft, though her eyes were hard and her back stiff.

Connor shook his head, and the tension in her shoulders doubled. "No. I tried to, but they wouldn't let us. No one was allowed to transfer – they said they needed all of us to make it work, and the fewer outsiders they brought in, the better. I even tried to quit, but… you can imagine that didn't go over well. In the end, though, we found a solution, a better one that I ever could have hoped for. It was so easy – right in front of me. I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it before.

"I was out driving, just trying to clear my head, when I happened to pass by the prison as they were bringing in a man in handcuffs. He was screaming something, I don't remember what, but I remember someone not far from the car saying he didn't deserve to live, and suddenly, I had it. It was clear as day – so simple." He smiled a little, remembering his own stroke of genius with a small measure of pride. "Criminals. Of course. Not the small-time ones, of course. But what about the ones on death row? They were going to die anyway – why not make it _worth_ something?

"I was so excited, I drove right back to the lab, and told the superiors. They were so pleased with the idea – you remember that bonus I got for Christmas that one year? It wasn't just for Christmas – they gave me grant money as a reward, and promoted me. They gave me my own research team and everything."

He looked over at his sister, expecting her to share in his pride – and instead found Kate looking as though she could kill. His recovered spirits dissipated in an instant. "Katie?"

"It was _your_ idea?" was all she could get past her clenched teeth.

"Well, yes." He sounded hesitant again, like a dog just realizing his master wasn't pleased with him after all. "I thought it was a good idea."

"It's a horrible idea!" she exploded, her foot hitting the gas hard as she lost her temper. "What those people did at Lab 5 – it was murder, pure and simple! And you – you helped them?!"

"I helped _everyone_!" Connor shot back. "Who knows what they might have done if I hadn't proposed the idea? At least it was only criminals they used as ingredients – it could have been so much worse."

"Only criminals?!" Kate all but shrieked. "You speak as if they're not even human!"

"They're NOT human, Kate!" he roared; Kate's foot slipped off the gas for a moment, and she guided the car to a rocky stop on the side of the road, unable to concentrate any longer on driving. She stared at him with a mixture of horror and fury. "You haven't changed, have you? Still against the death penalty? Still think the system's flawed?"

"It's not just flawed, it's corrupt!" Her eyes blazed like blue fire – freezing and burning in equal measure as they bored into her brother's. "What's the point of making murder illegal, if the punishment for it _is_ murder?"

"It's not murder because they're not _people_," Connor snapped. "They're killers, rapists, terrorists. They gave up their rights as humans the moment they made the decision to take a life."

"By that logic, then, neither are you! You helped with the executions, didn't you? I know you did – I can tell by the look in your eyes!" Tears were streaming down her face now freely, but she paid them no heed. "I always wondered why you seemed different once you started working there; your eyes looked different. Now I know why."

"I'm not a killer, Katie." He straightened his glasses, looking at her seriously. "You can't kill what's already dead. Those men were sentenced to death one way or the other – at least my way their deaths _meant_ something."

"No they didn't – those stones are meaningless compared with what was lost. Nothing is worth a human life, a human soul. There is no equivalent trade for that… that's a debt you'll never be able to pay off, Connor. You'll have to live with that the rest of your life."

A flicker of fear came and went in Connor's eyes, but he did not back down. "How can you say that? Even though they were incomplete, those stones were more powerful than you can imagine…"

"I don't care how powerful they are. I don't care if they were the _real_ thing. They're still not worth it. Nothing you say can change that."

He opened his mouth, closed it, and looked away again, thinking. She held her tongue, letting him choose his words carefully. "Believe what you will, Katie. But what's done is done, and you can't change that. Neither of us can."

"I wish I could," she whispered, putting her head down on crossed arms against the steering wheel, burying her face between her elbows. "I wish I could take it all back. I wish you had never gone to Lab 5. I miss having a brother I could trust."

Connor ran a hand through his unruly hair; she could imagine even without looking the hurt that was written all across his face. But she couldn't bring herself to take it back. "I miss having a sister too naïve to understand how the world really works."

"It doesn't have to be this way. We can still change it. We can still…"

"Fix it?" Connor shook his head, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. "Some things never change. Someday you'll learn, Katie – you can't fix everything."

"Even so," she murmured, looking up, "at least at the end of the day I can say I tried."

Connor swallowed. He had no answer for that.


	6. Like it Really Hurts

Baaaarry? I'm hoooooome! ;)

And now, a musical supplement:

_"And now, you're laughing out loud  
At just the thought of being alive...  
And I was wondering: could I just be you  
tonight?  
You show your pain like it really hurts,  
And I can't even start to feel mine..."_(lyrics from "Could I Be You" by Matchbox Twenty)

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing but my own morbid fascination with serial killers. Sorry for passing that on to you, Kate. ^^;

* * *

**Chapter 6: Like It Really Hurts**

"Another long day?" Barry cheerfully asked when she returned that night; though he could not see her, he could hear Kate slamming doors and kicking off her boots with unnecessary force, cursing colorfully when she stubbed her toe moments later. She was clearly not in a good mood. "What happened? Something interesting, I hope?"

More out of habit than desire, she found herself opening the door and taking her customary seat in front of him, leaning back and running a hand across her face, tired beyond her usual limit. "Roy almost caught me; I asked him about Lab 5, and he asked _me_ how I knew about it in the first place."

"Why so curious? You seemed pretty worked up about it last night," he commented, a hint of venom in his voice.

Kate's eyes widened. Was there no end to torture? "You heard me?"

"You weren't that subtle about it, sweetheart," he replied amusedly. "You might as well have stayed where you are now – it wouldn't have been much more obvious. So what was it that got to you? Personal problem, perhaps?"

She leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling both to avoid eye contact and to avoid a second sob-session. One was more than enough for one day. "It's none of your business."

"O-ho, that's rich! You'd trade the chance to turn me in, a wanted killer, for the chance to hear my life story – but when I ask about _you_…"

"I traded you information for my services in repairing you," she snapped. "You didn't bargain for _my_ story, so if I say it's none of your business, then it's none of your damn business!"

Barry giggled, sounding less gleeful than hysterical. "Ooh, a little touchy, are we? How does it feel when someone pries into YOUR private life?"

Kate blinked, looking him in the eye for the first time that night. "It bothers you?" she inquired, all traces of anger washed away by curiosity.

He looked at her askance. "Of course not," he replied coolly. "I've got nothing to hide."

"Uh huh." She wasn't totally convinced, but was too tired to press the point. She leaned back for a moment, propped her feet up on the table, and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose in defense against an impending headache.

"So what was it?" Barry asked; her eyes snapped open and she frowned at him.

"Why do you care, anyway?"

"Look, I've been stuck her for days without being able to move or sleep, and with absolutely nothing to do – certainly no chopping to relieve the tension. You can't possibly imagine how incredibly DULL it is here without you. Even my butcher knife can only distract me for so long!"

She tilted her head, her mouth twisting into a small, wry smile. "You mean to tell me… you missed me?"

"Well, ah…" he stuttered, thrown off by the unusual query. "Considering the only interesting thing I get to do is talk to you – yes, I suppose you could say that."

Putting her feet back down on the floor, she leaned forward, propping her chin up on her arms as she crossed them on top of the table. "You really are quite fascinating, you know that?"

"You say it like I'm one of your brother's experiments or something. Then again, I suppose I am," he mused, chuckling to himself.

Kate sat bolt upright, looking like a deer in headlights. "My… brother? You knew my brother?"

"I didn't realize you were related at first, but when I heard you crying like a baby last night I thought there had to be something about Lab 5 that meant something to you. And since, like I told you, I have nothing better to do, I had all night and all day to think about it, and finally – I remembered him. Connor Steele, am I right? Dr. Steele, the man who saved my soul from the gallows and made me… _this_. Thank him for me when you get the chance, will you?"

Kate's eyes were glazed with shock, but she did not cry, or scream, or argue as she might have done before her earlier conversation with Connor. After everything he'd told her, was this really that surprising? He'd said it himself – he didn't believe criminals like Barry were still human. Their lack of humanity, then, would make them the perfect candidates for experimentation in the eyes of someone like her brother. "He did this to you himself?"

"No, no, of course not," Barry said warmly, "Dr. Steele never got his hands dirty if he could help it. No, your brother was always the one with the big ideas – but when it came down to actually going through with things, someone else always wound up with their hands dirty. Have to hand it to him, though, he had some pretty _economical_ ideas, if I do say so myself." Though he said it with the same giddy, hysterical tone he always used, Kate thought she detected bitterness in his voice as well, despite his professed enjoyment of his current form. "Too bad he couldn't feel the _joy_ of killing for himself."

"My brother…" she began, but she let the words die before they left her lips. She had meant to say that Connor would never think that way, that Connor was not a monster – but she no longer believed it herself. "No," she agreed quietly. "He wouldn't have had the heart to do those things himself. It's one thing to propose the things he thought up; it's another thing entirely to have the blood on your own hands." She wasn't sure if it made him more of a coward, or more of a human.

"It's much more pleasant, for one thing," Barry added knowingly. Kate rolled her eyes. "Although," he said suddenly, "if you really feel that bad about your brother, you could make up for it by giving me a freebie tonight."

She arched an eyebrow at him, too tired to be really amused or irritated by his suggestion. "You're not the only person whose life my brother has ruined with his 'big ideas.' I can't make up for all the things he did, even if I put your whole body back together."

"Maybe not," said Barry, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the overhead lamp, "but you can't do anything else about it, either. You can't fix everything, no matter how hard you try – but you _can_ fix my body, and certainly that's worth something!"

She gazed at him for a few moments without moving, stricken by the similarity of his words to her brother's. _Someday you'll learn, Katie – you can't fix everything._ "I guess you've got a point – although I'm not repairing your whole body, if that's what you're hoping."

"Even if I ask nicely?"

"Even if you paid me a million dollars," she answered, and began picking out parts from the metal shards scattered across the table. "I'll fix your other hand for you."

"But I can't use it yet!"

"That's the idea. Not until the end, remember?" Ignoring his further protests, she gathered the pieces she'd found in record time, and placed them together in front of her. She clapped her hands, pressing the blue transmutation circle tattoos on her palms together, and placed them on the metal. The usual blue flash followed, and when their eyes adjusted, there, on the table, sat a perfect reconstruction of Barry the Chopper's left hand.

"I suppose I should thank you, although to be honest I sorta feel cheated," he whined.

She shrugged. "Considering it was for free, you _should_ be thankful. And don't expect it to happen again. _Ever_."

"I suppose," he sighed, and watching her stand and stretch, resigned himself to another motionless night. "You don't, by any chance, have any other knives I could look at while you sleep, do you?"

She paused mid-stretch. "I – I suppose I do. Although I don't think it's a particularly good idea…"

"If I don't have at least something new to do, I think I'll go insane!" he cried.

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "Too late," she said. But she couldn't help feeling a twinge of sympathy – she could only imagine how horrible it must be to be unable to move or sleep, to be stuck staring at the exact same thing all day and only have one short conversation a day with only one person. She sighed, and leaning over, picked up his head, holding it level with her own. "I'll do you one better."

She carried him over to one of the other two tables, one which sat farthest from the door, against the wall by a window. Sweeping aside some old scraps and unfinished pieces, she placed his head on top of two thick books, one on alchemy and one on automail, and turned his face towards the window. Pulling on a cord, she tilted the shades open, so that while the people on the street could not see in, Barry would be able to look down on the city below with ease.

"How about that? Is the view good enough for you?"

"Why… why yes. Thank you," he said, surprised into a moment of real gratitude. She grinned, satisfied in spite of the multiple reasons why she should not have been. "This is a fantastic view. So many people, even this late… so many victims to chop…" he sighed.

She rolled her eyes, the smile disappearing as quickly as it had manifested. "Good night, Barry."

She walked away, not waiting for a reply and expecting none, and was therefore surprised when, as she was closing the door, she heard, "Good night, Kate."

Resisting the urge to turn and look at him, she shut the door with a solid _click_, and stared into the darkness of the rest of the apartment. She was pleased and disturbed by the pleasure in equal parts, and the look in Connor's eyes as he'd ranted about humanity and the value of life and death haunted her as she retired to her own room. Tired though she was, it was a long time before she found solace in sleep.


	7. The Truth Will Out

Roy Mustang does not tolerate "sick" days!

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

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**Chapter 7: The Truth Will Out**

Kate stared at the phone, her fingers resting on the receiver as she thought over what to say, how to say it, trying to predict who would answer, hoping it wouldn't be Roy. She was allowed to call in sick if she needed it – and she surely needed a day off just then. "Dammit, I can do this," she muttered, and picked up the phone, dialing headquarters.

Ring, ring, ring. Then a voice answered, the voice of a female secretary, and Kate smiled, opening her mouth to answer – when suddenly someone on the other end picked up and ordered the secretary off the line. Kate froze; Roy had caught her after all. "Steele, is that you?" he demanded, sounding angry.

She cleared her throat. "Uh, yes, sir."

"You were calling in sick, weren't you?"

She winced. "Uh… yes, sir." Her shoulders slumped.

"You don't sound sick to me. Report to headquarters _immediately_ – that's an order."

Kate's eyes widened. "Sir, did something happen?"

"Report immediately, Steele." There was a click, and the line went dead.

She put the phone down slowly, her hand a little shaky. _Report immediately?_ Something must have happened, but it was clear Roy didn't want to discuss it over the phone. Then again, she remembered, if the corruption in the military went as far up as Barry had led her to believe, Roy had good reason to be cautious… especially if whatever he needed to say had to do with the Homunculi.

Her eyes widening, she grabbed her coat and her keys and was out the door in a flash, pausing neither for breakfast nor Barry, who was shouting in the other room, demanding to know what was going on. She ran out to her car, pulling on her coat as she went, and shoving the keys in the ignition, was off in a flash, speeding towards headquarters.

She got there in record time, parking and sitting in the car just long enough to make herself presentable, before marching up the steps and into the building. Before long, she found herself standing in the Colonel's office, alone. She wondered if the others had been briefed already… or worse, if she had been found out.

Suddenly she wished she hadn't rushed quite so much to get there. She would have liked to live a little longer, even if only for a few extra minutes.

Roy stared up at her over hands folded in front of him, his elbows propped up on the desk. He stared at her as though by eye-contact, he could read her mind. "Sir...?" she managed at length.

"Sit down, Steele."

Swallowing hard, she sat. "Was I right? Did something happen?"

He nodded once. "Barry's body has been spotted. It is not in the possession of the Homunculi, as we formerly believed. It is loose in the city, and it appears that it is still in search of the bloodseal and the soul it binds. Last night a woman spotted it attacking her dog – looking for meat to sustain itself, I would guess. It nearly killed the woman as well – it appears it has very little preference _what_ it eats, as long as it's edible.

"I asked you to report immediately because I believe you know something about what is going on here." He gave her a hard look. "So tell me, Steele. What do you know, _really_, about all of this?"

Kate's mouth opened and closed as she grasped for explanations, excuses – _anything_ but the truth. "Sir, I…"

"Dammit, Steele!" Roy snapped, hitting the desk with his fist. "Don't lie to me again. I need to know what you know, and I need to know _now_!"

"Well, sir…" She sighed, accepting that, at the very least, she would have to tell him _some_ of the truth. "As you know, I recently became aware of certain… issues regarding Laboratory 5."

"How?"

"I…" She gritted her teeth. He wasn't going to like this, not at all. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, sir."

His eyes narrowed dangerously at her. "What do you mean?"

"Suffice it to say I've found an inside source… an eyewitness."

"That's impossible. All of the scientists in Lab 5 were killed…" He paused. "Except for your brother."

She nodded. "He transferred before it closed down. He did so much to help them, and was so good at keeping secrets, they let him. He was the only one, and he never told a soul what went on there."

"So how did you find out, then?"

Mentally she kicked herself, realizing too late that Connor would have been the perfect stand-in in her story for Barry. "That's the part I can't tell you, sir. Not now, anyway."

"Your brother is the only surviving scientist from Lab 5. If he didn't tell you, there is no other living person…" He paused, and Kate stiffened as she watched understanding dawning in his eyes. "You know where the armor with the bloodseal is," he said shortly.

"Sir, I…"

"Remember – _don't_ lie to me."

She looked down. "Yes, sir," she answered quietly. "I do know where it is."

Roy stared at her for a few moments in silence, thinking it over. When he came to a conclusion, he pressed a gloved hand to his face, looking as if he were in pain. "You're trying to repair him, aren't you?" he groaned.

"Uh… yes… sir." She folded her hands to keep from fidgeting, afraid to look at him.

"Do you know how stupid that is?" he snapped. "It's incredibly dangerous to be in possession of that armor, _especially_ now that his body's on the loose!"

Kate looked up, startled. "But it doesn't know where he is!"

"It doesn't have to – body and soul are drawn together by the bond they once shared. How do you think it found him the first time around?"

She bit back a curse. "So it's only a matter of time till it finds him."

"Right. You need to get away from him as soon as possible, before the body finds both of you. Is he fully repaired yet?"

Kate grimaced. "Not exactly, sir."

"What's the matter? I would have thought a job like that would have been a piece of cake for you."

"Well…" She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. "I sort of – struck a deal with him."

Roy's voice went dead flat. "What?"

"He gives me information I want, regarding Lab 5 and all that, and I fix him a little bit at a time."

"_Kate_…" Roy took a deep breath, reining in his rapidly increasing temper. "Forget the deal. Fix him, quickly, and bring him to headquarters. That's an order, Steele," he added when she looked as though she would protest. "He may still be of use to us."

She pressed her lips together tightly. "Yes, sir." She rose, assuming she was dismissed, and almost made it to the door when he spoke again.

"Steele – don't forget, that body is out there somewhere. Keep an eye out."

She nodded once, then left, all but slamming the door behind her on her way out.


	8. Questions

Why, yes, I DO stay up till 4 in the morning writing about empty-suit-of-armor serial killers whilst watching The Knife Show. Why do you ask? 8D

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, blah blah blah.

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**Chapter 8: Questions**

"Home already?" called Barry when she arrived back at the apartment. "What happened – you get fired or something?"

She walked in, glaring at the back of his head. "No, I didn't get fired. As it happens, I was called in because of _you_ – or rather, your body."

Barry's head shivered as he tried unsuccessfully to turn and look at her. "My body? Really? Do tell!" he exclaimed. Crossing the room, she picked up his head and carried it over to the table. "Did it survive, then? Is it still on the loose, causing murder and mayhem wherever it goes?"

Kate put a hand on her hip, staring down at him with exasperation. "Yes, that's the problem. Apparently it's loose in the city, looking for _you_."

"Oh – _oh_," he said with dismay, "Still looking to get rid of me, I see."

"Yeah, and Central's in a panic about it. Apparently it's been eating whatever it wants to stay alive, including pets _and_ their masters."

"Oooh, how delightful!"

"Which is why the Colonel wants me to fix you up as soon as possible. He's afraid your body will find us together, and kill me too."

"Oh, dear, that _would_ be disappointing." She blinked, surprised. "I would _much_ rather have you for myself – that silly shell of a body could _never_ properly appreciate the delightful experience of killing _you_."

She sighed. "I should have known better. Personally, Barry, I'd rather _neither_ of you killed me – which brings me back to the problem of repairing you… which I wasn't exactly ready to do yet."

Barry's eyes widened. "But I AM! I think the Colonel has got a point. After all, the sooner you fix me, the sooner I can be on my way, and the farther I am from you, the safer you are! Rather logical, don't you agree?"

She sat down heavily, her shoulders slumping as she thought it over. "Of course it makes sense. It's just, I wanted more time to talk to you." She paused, her eyes going cold and hard. "Then again, it's only a body, right? It didn't seem so clever. I could probably take it, if I had to." She blinked again, and looked at him inquiringly. "How _is_ it animated, anyway?"

"It's got the soul of a lab rat," he said simply. "Or something like that."

"You can do that? Attach a soul to a deceased body?"

"Apparently. Or perhaps it's some sort of chimera, more human than rat. Who knows?" He chuckled. "The important thing is that it's alive, and just BEGGING to be chopped!" His chuckle turned into a gleeful cackle, and Kate suppressed a shiver.

"So if your bloodseal is broken, then the body will die as well?"

"Seems that way. Either that, or my body is just as anxious to kill me as I am to kill it!"

Kate's eyes grew distant, her expression thoughtful and troubled. "But why wouldn't the rat's soul keep it alive? Is the bond between body and soul that strong?"

"I suppose so," Barry agreed, somewhat uncertainly now. "Why? What are you thinking?"

Her brow furrowed, her lips turning down as she drew nearer and nearer to an undesirable, but unfortunately logical, conclusion. "If the bond's that strong, shouldn't it work both ways? If breaking the bloodseal kills the body, then… won't destroying the body release the soul as well?"

There was a very pregnant pause, in which neither dared move nor speak. At length, Barry said, "No. No, you're wrong." He laughed, more nervously than cheerfully. "If that were the case, I wouldn't even be here – my body died the moment my soul was ripped from it. I CAN KILL IT IF I WANT TO!"

"Shut it!" she snapped, glancing up at the apartment above her self-consciously. "Yelling about it won't change things. Besides, maybe you are right – maybe killing it won't make any difference after all." She glanced out the window, at the still-young afternoon. "It's barely noon yet," she mused, more to herself than to Barry. "I've got plenty of time to spare."

"What are you planning on doing?"

She stood, carried him back over to the window, then turned to leave the room. "I'm going to have a word with the Elric brothers," she called back over her shoulder. "If there's anyone that knows the answer to this stuff, it's those two."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"My… body?" Al asked, his voice squeakier than his armor as he considered her questions with unease. "Why do you want to know about that?"

"I just need to know if your body needs to be alive in order for _you_ to be here. It's okay, Al, you don't have to tell me what happened – just tell me what you know about it in general."

"We don't know much," said Ed, his golden eyes guarded, glinting metallically in the sunlight. "It's not like we've got his body with us to tell us."

"I know you don't like talking about this, Ed," Kate said softly. "And if I thought I'd do better asking someone else instead, I would have. But I can't afford to go on scientific theories and fictional works – I need the truth, as soon as possible."

"Why do you care? You don't know anyone else like us – you've said so before," Ed said. "What made you curious about it now?"

"Brother…" Al began, sounding embarrassed at the hint of temper in his siblings' voice.

"No, it's all right," Kate said quickly, putting a hand on his hollow metal arm. "It's only fair that you should ask, considering what I'm asking of you. I… met someone recently. Someone like you, Al. And I'm wondering what happens if his body is killed – will he die too?"

Ed didn't look convinced, but Al had begun speaking before he could stop him. "Well, I _have_ done some research on it," Al said slowly; Kate was certain there was more to it than that, but didn't press the matter, being more concerned with the information than how it was obtained. "I'm not sure, but I think it works like you said – both need to be kept intact, in order for the other to survive."

"But does the body need to be just _intact_, or actually infused with a soul?" Kate persisted. "Or is it alive, but not mobile, without another soul put into it? Does the presence of the soul on this plane keep the heart pumping and the lungs working as well?"

"This sounds like more than just curiosity," Ed cut in. "Is something wrong?"

"Eh…" She hesitated, hunting for the proper explanation. "Sort of. Maybe. It depends on what I find out."

"Are you in trouble, Kate?" asked Al, concern clear in his voice in spite of his immobile face.

"No," she lied, hoping her poker face was still in place. "I just – the more I know about this, the better. Trust me."

"Well, I'm sorry, but we don't really know the answers to your questions," said Ed, his expression softening a little as he apologized. "All I can say is, if you want your friend to be safe, you'd better take good care of his body, too."

Her mood was now considerably darker than before, in spite of (_because_ of) the knowledge she'd gained from them. Still, she managed a smile for the young brothers, so much more mature than she had been, or believed they should have been, at their age. "Well, that doesn't make things any easier for me – but it's good to know. Thanks, guys."

Nodding to them, she headed for her car, her hand pausing on the door-handle when Ed's voice called out after her. "Kate?"

"Yes, Edward?" She didn't turn, but waited, her hand hovering mid-air.

"Who's your new friend, anyway?" She swallowed hard, but did not move, nor did she answer. "Just tell me one thing," he said, his voice lower now and slightly hoarse. "Is it someone we know?"

There was a long silence. Then, the sound of her car door as she yanked it open. "See you, Edward." She climbed in, shutting the door quickly and shoving the keys forcibly into the ignition, and did not look up until she'd hit the gas and was on her way out, backing away from the brothers Elric. When she did raise her head, she saw them standing together, staring after her, one with an unreadable expression, and the other with a face made of iron.

She locked eyes with Edward for a moment – then, she turned the car and sped away, ignoring the image of them in her rearview mirror as she drove away, back towards home with a head full of too many questions she could not answer.


	9. Killer Conversation

Getting close to the end now! (So soon?) BTW I would like to mention that in the previous chapter, that whole idea of the soul needing the body to be alive in order to... exist, I guess... is according to the FMA wiki, not something I just made up. Personally, this bothers me, as that means that the lab animal whose soul is in Barry's body needed a soul put into its own, and so on... creating an endless chain of soul-planting, which makes NO sense to me. So unless, as I mentioned, Barry's body was actually turned into a very human-looking chimera in order to make it survive, I think we got a minor problem here. But whatever. Whatever explanation I decide to go with will probably appear in the next chapter, at any rate. In the meantime... more Barry madness!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own FMA characters (just Kate and Connor), locations (except Kate's apartment), or plot.

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**Chapter 9: Killer Conversation**

"I take it your little rendezvous didn't go so well?"

Kate sighed, pacing in front of the table where she had placed Barry. "No. They don't know much more about it than we do, but they're pretty sure they know who I was talking about when I said I met someone like Al – and Ed sure didn't seem happy about it. Not that I can blame him," she added as an afterthought, and glanced at Barry with a strange expression.

He shifted – or tried to – uncomfortably. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just… I guess I almost forgot who I was talking to. I sort of got used to you," she told him, offering him a small, wry grin.

"WHAT?!" he exclaimed, dismayed. "USED to me? I'm Barry the Chopper – I'm the deadliest serial killer Central's ever seen! People _fear_ me, they cower in _terror_ from me, they flee for their _lives_ from me – YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE _USED_ TO ME!"

Kate, having paused mid-pace, leaned against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow at him with mixed amusement and aggravation. "Maybe under different circumstances – say, if you were able to move – I would do those things. Maybe. As it is, though, you're irritating at worst, and interesting at best." She winked at him, and laughed when he protested.

"Interesting? INTERESTING? Is that the best you can come up with – just '_interesting'_? What about 'fearsome', or 'terrifying', or…" He paused, her words reminding him of something else. "I WOULD be able to move if you would FIX ME ALREADY!"

The amusement was gone in a flash, her mood waxing serious once more. "Yeah. I guess I need to get on that." She walked over to him slowly, passing her hand over the scattered pieces but without selecting any. "Still, what about equivalent exchange? We had a deal."

"Personally, I think being forced to sit around your apartment day and night as a disembodied head has been payment enough," Barry snapped. "But if you have something you want to ask me…"

"What made you do it?" she blurted out, dropping into the chair without breaking eye contact. Her face was rigid, her back tense with concentration. For once, her expression was completely open, and for the first time he saw just how much it meant to her to have an explanation for him, and, if possible, a way to truly fix him.

"What made me do what?"

"Why'd you kill her?"

"What's it to you?"

"I want to know what turned you into a killer."

"I want to know why _you_ want to know what turned me into a killer!"

"I want to know because…" She took a deep breath. "Because, sometimes, people like you seem way too much like people like me. You were right, I _do_ wish I could fix you. But also, I want to know what draws the line between creators and destroyers in the first place. I want to know what makes us different... because lately, you've been making _way_ too much sense to me."

Barry blinked. Then, he began to laugh. "You… I really got to you, didn't I?" he crowed. Her eyes narrowed, and she drew back, looking hurt. "I knew you'd see things my way! You feel it, don't you – the _need_ to kill, the _delight_ in torture, the _longing_ to take a slice of your fellow man! You admit that, deep down, what you _really_ want—"

"SHUT UP!" Karen shouted, leaping to her feet. Seizing him by the sides of his face, she held his head up so that it was level with hers, and she glared daggers at him, seething. "That's _not_ what I said – don't twist my words around! I AM NOT A KILLER!"

"Oh, really?" Barry said, his words dripping with deviousness. "It looks to me like you'd very much like to commit murder – if you could really call it that – right _now_."

Her eyes widened, twin plates of blue glass staring into his supposedly empty sockets. Slowly, she put him down again. "It _would_ make things easier," she admitted, and, sitting down again, took the shard with the bloodseal into her hands.

"Not so fast, sweetheart," Barry said quickly, his voice quavering. "Didn't the Colonel tell you to _fix_ me?"

"Yeah – but this wouldn't be the first time I disobeyed him. I've done worse things in his eyes than this, believe me." She touched a finger to the seal.

"Hey… hey, DON'T!" He shivered.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked quietly, staring down at the rune.

"Enh – well, no," he conceded, "but it feels WEIRD. Stop doing that!"

"You're just like Al," she continued, as if she hadn't heard. "Ed is always saying his little brother is still human, in spite of having lost his body. I never questioned it – after all, those Homunculi have human bodies, but no souls. I certainly wouldn't call _them_ human. So the fact that the bloodseal worked for you means you have a soul too… which makes _you_ human, too. Just like me." She traced the seal lightly, and he groaned. "So tell me… what happened?" She looked up at him, meeting his gaze unfalteringly. "Why did you kill your wife?"

He was silent for a long time. Kate, sensing he was actually thinking about what she'd said for a change, did not rush him, but let him take his time. At length, he spoke, his voice unusually level. "When you work in a butcher shop all your life, that's how people think of you. Pretty soon, that's the way you think of yourself – and before you know it, everything is meat. There's good meat, and bad meat, but in the end we all get sent to the chopping block. Me, I'd rather be the one chopping the meat than the one being chopped."

It wasn't a straight answer, not exactly, but Kate was more than happy to accept it regardless. It was, she figured, the only time she ever had, or ever would, hear Barry the Chopper say something actually meaningful. "That's unusually poetic of you, Barry. Well, bordering on poetic, anyway."

"Was it worth my body back?" he demanded, recovering himself almost instantaneously. "Surely it was worth half, at least!"

She gazed at him for awhile without answering, considering the matter carefully. "I'm not sure," she said at last, rising from the chair and dropping the blood-inscribed scrap back on the table. "Let me sleep on it."

"Oh, sure, just take ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD. It's not like I've got anything BETTER to do! What's one more night of endless, torturous boredom, anyway?"

She turned away, hiding a smile as she headed for the door. "Only one more night, Barry. By the end of tomorrow, at the latest, you'll be whole again."

She heard him gasp in delight behind her. "You – you PROMISE?"

She nodded, glancing back at him as she reached out to shut the door. "I promise."


	10. Complete Again

Okay, so no explanation regarding his body yet. Soon, I promise. :3

_"At last, my arm is complete again!"_ ~ Sweeney Todd, in reference to his razor

**Disclaimer**: I do not own FMA. Even if I'd like to.

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**Chapter 10: Complete Again**

Kate took her time in the morning, showering, brushing her hair, getting dressed, eating breakfast, smiling to herself when she imagined Barry listening to all of it, grinding his teeth (figuratively speaking) impatiently. She had no need to stall for time – she'd made her decision already during the night – but it was amusing to put it off just a little longer, just to frustrate him.

Eventually, however, she ran out of excuses, and with a sigh she opened the door to her workroom, walking in to an enthusiastic greeting from Barry. "Oh, good, you're awake!" he cried, as if he hadn't been listening to her every move for the past hour. "So, what's the verdict? Do I get to be whole again?"

She forced a stern look onto her face. "What do _you_ think?"

"I…" He squinted at her, searching for a comforting glimmer in her eyes, a slightly twitching corner of her mouth, and found nothing. He faltered. "I… uh…"

She couldn't help but crack a smile. "Yes, of course you get to be whole again. I promised, didn't I?" His breath whooshed out in a sigh of relief. "Although, I gotta tell you Barry, this apartment's gonna seem mighty empty when you're gone."

"Ooh, what's this? Miss me already?" he chortled. "I could come back and visit, if you like. I'll bring my knife along, and…"

"No, I'd rather you didn't," she said, and though she almost laughed, he had brought up an excellent point. "But – I need to ask you a favor." She hesitated. "Oh, God, I must be insane for doing this."

"What is it?"

"Once I fix you, I would like it very much if you did _not_ chop me. Consider it a fair exchange, in place of our original deal. I let you go free, rather than taking you back to Central, and you _don't_ kill me – or my friends."

"What about the Colonel's orders?"

She shrugged, a hint of cunning in her eyes. "It's not my fault if I can't keep a fully repaired, murdering suit of armor in check. It was either get killed, or let you go. He'll understand."

"Wonderful. Simply wonderful," Barry agreed. "Now, about fixing me…"

"Yes, yes, I know." She stood over him, and began surveying the pieces of his armor. "I'll do it a piece at a time, then connect them together," she murmured, selecting scraps and placing them in front of her as she spoke. "The last thing I'll put back in place will be the piece with your bloodseal – not that I don't trust you, but I know I _shouldn't_."

"Fine, fine, just hurry up!"

"Don't rush me, or you'll end up with backwards joints and a leg where an arm should be." He fell silent immediately, forcing himself to watch quietly as she began to transmute his body back together. First one arm, then the other; his right leg, and then his left. His feet came next, then – the largest part – his torso, fully formed except for a jagged edge at the top where the piece with the blood rune belonged. Then she began connecting pieces, her cobalt eyes serious and full of concentration as she put him back together.

In just over an hour, she had it – his body was complete again, standing hollow and headless in the middle of the room, clean and perfect as the first day he'd been given it. She didn't tell him, but she'd actually added a few elements as well – just a little something here or there to make it stronger, more durable, just because she could.

"Oooh, I can't wait! Quick, quick, finish it! Attach my head!" Barry cried.

"I told you, don't rush me," she shot back, but she picked him up and did as he asked, standing on tiptoe to put his head in place. With a blue flash and a strange, tingly sensation, he found his head reattached to his body once more.

"Now the bloodseal! Hurry up!"

She picked it up, hesitating. "What will you do when you leave?"

"What does it matter? Just finish it already!"

"Fine!" She walked over to him, reluctant without quite knowing why. For some reason, she didn't really think he'd kill her – but she was putting off finishing him, all the same. _Just get it over with,_ she thought sternly. She began to replace the piece, and on impulse, pressed her lips to the seal before fitting it against the rest of the armor. She felt it tremble violently before she let it go.

"What was that for?"

She shrugged. "For good luck." Before he could question it further, she clapped her hands and thrust them against his back, and with a flash and a creaking as the iron reattached itself, it was done. He was fully formed again, and fully mobile.

"I… I can move again!" he cried, waving his arms delightedly. Kate backed away, out of range of his wheeling arms, shaking her head. "Oh, it feels so GOOD to be back!" He spun about, simply enjoying the motion, and as he did so, he caught a glimpse of his knife on the table. "At last!" He snatched it up, caressing it as though it were a precious jewel or family heirloom, something priceless and beloved.

It happened so quickly, she had no time to react. One moment, he was crooning over his butcher knife, oblivious to all else in the world – and the next, Kate was flat against the wall, feeling the cold edge of the knife against her neck as Barry's skull-face loomed directly in front of hers. "Ah, there it is," he said, and she got the impression that he was smiling. "_There's_ the fear I've been missing."

"What about our deal?" Kate demanded, doing her best to keep her voice level and her face straight. "I fixed you, and you let me and my friends live."

"What deal?" He shook his head. "I don't recall agreeing to those terms." He slid the knife gently, delicately, across the sensitive skin of her neck, threatening but without actually cutting. "It's been so long… so long since I properly chopped someone."

She could feel her body trembling, the blood draining from her face, but she lifted her chin, determined to keep what dignity she had left. "If you're going to do it, then stop dragging it out and do it already. You can do that much for me, at least."

He blinked, and suddenly, the knife was gone as he backed away from her, laughing. "You really thought I'd do it, didn't you?" he cackled. "Serves you right for trusting a killer like me!"

She blinked, rubbing her neck unconsciously as she stared at him. "You… you're not going to kill me?"

"No, I suppose not," he said, lowering his meat-cleaver and quieting down somewhat. "Although you do make an excellent victim. You would have fought back, if I'd given you the chance. It would have been quite interesting to see your insides. I can't guarantee I'll be able to keep away forever, but for now – I suppose I'll let you live."

She shook her head, too furious to laugh, to relieved to yell, and maybe even a little bit amused as well. "You're a complete jerk, you know that? You ever do that again, and I _will_ kill you!"

"Ah, I love a strong woman," he said on a sigh, pretending (she hoped) to be moonstruck. "However, my dear, it is high time I left you. There's so much to chop, and so little time!"

"Barry, wait, I don't want you to…" But too late; he was out the window and hit the street before she could get more than his name out. Running to the window, she watched as he terrorized a nearby couple, then ran off down the street, calling out – _something_. She leaned further out, and her eyes widened as a couple of words reached her ears, and she realized he wasn't looking for just any victims – he was looking for his body.

She passed a hand wearily over her face, frustrated beyond measure and, she found, worried. Not just for whoever might cross his path, but for Barry as well. "I was going to tell you I don't want you to kill anyone," she muttered, to herself now that he was gone. "But I guess it wouldn't have made a difference. If you find your body, you won't be killing anyone else, because you'd have killed yourself."

For a moment, she remained motionless at the window, torn between common sense and what actually felt right. In the end, her heart won out, and with a growl she yanked her coat on and was out the door, chasing down the street after him. She wasn't sure what she would do when she found him, though she was beginning to think taking him back to headquarters was a good idea after all. Her first priority was to find him before he found his body; as for what she would do then, she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

_If_ she came to it in time.


	11. Spontaneous Salvation, Part Deux

_"The suspense is _terrible _- I hope it'll last."_ ~ Willy Wonka (quoting Oscar Wilde, apparently)

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, though I WISH I owned an evil laugh as great as Barry's. XD

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**Chapter 11: Spontaneous Salvation, Part Deux**

Kate, unfortunately, was not a tracker. She only had a vague idea of what direction he'd gone in – and since she had no idea where his body was, she could not head him off. Shortly after leaving her apartment, she was forced to slow down, relying on eyewitness reports of a deranged suit of armor passing by on the street, offering a friendly death-threat here and there as it searched, desperately, for its body.

She despised the setback, but refused to give up. If he stopped somewhere, _anywhere_, long enough, she would find him – she was sure of it. Yet while her hope persisted, the daylight did not. Before she knew it, the sky was growing dark above her, and the streets grew emptier and emptier as nightfall descended upon Central. She grimaced; the later it got, the more dangerous the streets would be, even on a normal day. And with Barry and his body on the loose…

She shook her head. She had to find them – either one of them – soon.

As she began to run out of eyewitnesses, she began searching whatever seemed likely – deserted houses, back roads, deserted alleys. And then, just as she'd begun to lose hope, she thought, perhaps, that she had found something. At the end of a particularly dark and trash-filled alleyway, something was moving. Something big, although she could not see just what it was.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled on a pair of black, fingerless gloves with twin transmutation circles sewn into the palms in blue. These, however, were not meant for reconstructing, as the tattoos on her hands were – these were meant for battle. After all, in the middle of a fight, there was no time to draw transmutation circles.

Cautiously, she approached the thing at the end of the path, wondering whether it was Barry the suit of armor or Barry in the flesh. She hoped it was the former. "Barry?" she called out, taking a defensive position in case she was wrong. "Barry, is that you?"

She heard a grunting sound, and tensed, deciding she was wrong. She fell into a crouching position, and was considering what attack she should use when –

"BARK BARK BARK!" A Great Dane the size of a small polar bear charged out of the trash towards her, galumphing across the pavement in giant strides. Caught off-guard, she hesitated an instant too long, and was crushed beneath the beast's weight as it tackled her headlong, thrusting her painfully against the ground.

"What the – GET OFF!" she snapped when the dog, rather than attacking, began to lick her face profusely, leaving a disgusting slime wherever its tongue went. "Urgh!" Rolling over, she shoved it off, and got up quickly, wiping her face with her sleeve. "Jeez, dog, you scared the hell out of me!"

The dog sniffed at her pant-leg, its tail wagging, and looked up at her hopefully, waiting perhaps for a scrap of food. It didn't look hungry to her – in fact, judging by how well-fed it seemed, it was probably a pet, escaped from someone's back yard.

She sighed, patting the dog's head. "Sorry for yelling at you. But don't you know it's dangerous—"

"BARK BARK BARK!" the dog interrupted, turning suddenly to look at something behind her at the entrance to the alley. "BARK BARK BARK!"

"What the—" She spun on her heel, just in time to see something large – much larger than the dog, even – leaping towards her, seemingly from the wall itself.

"RAAAARGH!"

She fell back down into a crouching position, taking the thing's weight with her hands and feet and rolling with it, doing a sort of somersault as, with a blue flash, she deconstructed the outer layer of its skin, leaving two hand-shaped wounds on its chest as she scrambled to get away from it.

As it writhed for a moment, roaring in pain, Kate finally got a good look at it, and realized with a start what she had already suspected: she had found Barry's body. Or rather, it had found her. To her right, the dog, whining in terror, had tucked its tail between its legs and run off, as to her left, the body finally began to right itself and looked at her with hungry eyes. She grimaced, realizing it had been planning on eating the _dog_ for dinner, but had recently decided she would make a much nicer meal instead.

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped, backing away with her mind racing. How was she supposed to defend herself if she couldn't kill it? _I have to knock it out again,_ she thought, just as it sprang at her again.

She dodged it, dropping and rolling to the right as it lunged, hoping it would knock itself out against the wall; though it hit the wall hard, it was only fazed for a moment. She gritted her teeth, looking around for something she could use, and seeing nothing. "Dammit!"

It pounced again, and again she dodged, this time barely missing being caught as it tumbled past her. Its arm knocked against her as she moved, knocking her off-balance, and she fell, grunting as she made contact with the hard ground. Hearing the thing behind her but unable to see it, she rolled over just in time to see it crawling towards her. With a yell, she delivered a swift, solid kick to its face, dislocating its nose and temporarily distracting it as she moved backwards, not daring to turn her back on it. Her hand suddenly felt something cold and hard beneath it; pulling it forward, she found herself grasping a heavy iron pipe. _That'll work._

Barry's body, however, did not do as she had predicted. Rather than leaping on top of her, it crouched down and reached forward, seizing her foot as it dragged her to it. Crying out in equal parts terror and pain, she swung wildly with the pipe, at first missing it altogether and then, on the second pass, connecting painfully with its shoulder. Unfortunately, the shoulder she hit was not connected to the hand that had seized her, and all that she accomplished was to further anger it, causing its steel-like grip to tighten agonizingly.

With a roar, it took hold of the pipe with its free hand, snatching it away from her and tossing it away, far out of reach. Heaving, it dragged her closer, and she choked, overpowered by the stench of death as it drew nearer and nearer. She struggled, kicking and clawing wildly at it, but to no avail – it was much too hungry to be bothered with such petty attacks.

Seeing no other option, she let it drag her closer, so that its torso was in reach, and then she shoved upward, her palms slamming against its shoulders with a blue flash as she deconstructed its flesh a second time, removing a layer of skin beneath her hands. The body howled, but did not let go, and she was forced to remove her hands, fearful of letting the transmutation go too far.

Furiously, it shook her, and she saw stars as her head smacked backwards against the pavement, not quite knocking her out but certainly leaving her dazed and confused. She stopped struggling, her mind lost in a fog of pain as she struggled to get back to the surface, knowing she was about to die but unable to understand why.

The face of the thing moved closer, leering, and even in her groggy state she grimaced, her throat constricting as she once again smelled the horrible scent of rot and decay coming off of it. Panicking without full control of her motor system, she shoved up at it weakly, trying to push it away, but it knocked aside her hands as easily as it would a fly.

_I'm going to die,_ she thought, and she wasn't sure if the scream that followed was her own or some poor bystander's.

"THERE you are! At last, I've found you!" someone shrieked; she frowned, fairly certain that _that_, at least, had not been her.

The body looked up, distracted by the newcomer, just in time to leap out of the way of a descending meat-cleaver. Kate cried out as the knife, having missed its original target, came dangerously close to carving into her own body instead.

"Oh, look, it's you," said Barry (the suit of armor) cheerfully, noticing Kate for the first time. Then the body lunged for him, and together they fell, each one trying desperately to kill the other without being killed first. "STOP STRUGGLING!" he shouted manically, his meat cleaver slicing cleanly through air as the body leapt out of the way. "Sit still so that I can CHOP YOU!"

Kate scrambled to her feet, coming back to herself at last. She winced as she put weight onto the foot the body had grabbed, and stood unevenly as she shouted, "Barry, stop! If you kill the body—"

But it was clear Barry (either of them) had no intention of listening to her; they were much too consumed with bloodlust and madness to listen to her logic and reason. Grimacing, she limped past them, scrambling through the garbage to find the pipe she'd had before. She heard the body cry out behind her, but forced herself not to look back, telling herself neither was dead yet. The continued sounds of war were a comfort to her as she searched; it meant both body and soul were still alive and kicking.

Finally, her hands closed around something cold and metallic, and with an effort she yanked the pipe – not the same one, but a similar one at least – out of the refuse, and turned back to the fight behind her. She was horrified to see blood streaming down Barry's body, from a wound she could not discern while they were struggling.

Knowing she had to be quick, she watched, waiting for the perfect moment – and then, as the body's back was turned toward her, she lunged forward, bringing the pipe down with all her might against the body's skull.

Following a sickening crack, the body collapsed, and for one terrible moment, Kate believed she'd actually killed it – until she realized Barry-the-suit-of-armor was still standing upright, looking down at the body with a gleeful expression. "At last," he said, "at last, I get to see what my own insides are made of!"

She raised the pipe, realizing she could not knock the armor out as well, but having a better idea instead. Swinging like a baseball player, she connected with his head with a solid CLANG and watched as it sailed through the air, rolling when it hit the ground until it came to rest a good twenty feet from where the rest of the armor was standing. "What the— Why, you little—!"

"Sorry, Barry," she said, and, dropping the pipe, slammed her hands into his torso, severing the top half of his body from the lower half with a flash of alchemic blue light. Ignoring the stream of cursing that followed, she dragged both halves away from his human body, severing the hand holding the meat-cleaver as well when he tried unsuccessfully to use it on _her_ instead. Grabbing the pipe, she collected a few others like it and, placing them around the body, used them to form chains which wrapped around the body tightly, rendering it harmless – for the moment.

Taking a deep breath, she walked over to Barry's head and, picking it up, placed it once more atop his torso. "What do you think you're DOING?!" he demanded, having run out, at least temporarily, of his curses and oaths.

"Protecting… oh, I don't know," she groaned, covering her face and sliding down the wall to sit next to him, exhausted. "I don't know _what_ the hell I'm doing."

"Then let me—"

"No." She leaned her head back against the wall, looking up at the sky as if it held all the answers. "No. If you kill your body, you'll die too."

"Maybe, maybe not. How do you know unless you try? LET ME TRY!"

"No, we're not taking that chance. There's got to be some way of fixing this." She paused, and looked over at him with eyes full of amazement. "You know, you saved my life."

Barry looked at her askance. "Oh, is that so? I hadn't noticed."

She rolled her eyes and turned her gaze heavenward again. "Well, whether you meant to or not… thanks."

"Well – what are you going to do now?" he asked, changing the subject quickly.

"I don't know," she said softly, looking lost. "I don't know."


	12. Two Words: Human, Transmutation

So, not quite finished before the end of 2009. Still, what better way to celebrate than with Barry the Chopper... x2? XD Happy New Year's, everybody!

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, etc. etc.

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**Chapter 12: Two Words: Human, Transmutation**

She closed her eyes, running through every image she'd ever seen, every word she'd ever heard or read, plumbing the depths of her mind for an answer, _any_ answer other than the obvious. The easy way out, of course, would be to let Barry-the-armor have his way, and be rid of both him and his body. But Kate didn't even consider it for a second, other than to think briefly of what Roy would say – that it made sense. And it did – but she refused to accept it was the only way.

The inevitable thought – _human transmutation_ – crossed her mind, of course. It was swiftly followed, however, by images of Ed and Al, of missing body parts replaced painfully with automail, or, worse still, a missing _body_. She wanted neither for herself, and Barry was in enough pieces as it was. Still, the idea was firmly planted in her head in spite of her efforts to dismiss it, like a splinter under her skin. Something about it bothered her, like she was forgetting something.

Then it hit her. Human, transmutation. Not the way she was thinking – not the way Ed and Al had done it – but another way, so simple it was too good to be true. Of course there was a big _if_ involved – _if_ it worked, because if it didn't he would die just the same. Still, she thought, opening her eyes, it was worth a shot.

"Welcome back," remarked Barry as she stood up, her eyes on his chained body. "Ready to fix me – again?"

"I think I have a way for us both to get what we want," she said, but she sounded distracted as she surveyed his human body, noticing something for the first time. "Barry, your body… is it _rotting_?"

"Why yes, I believe it is," he said, as if commenting on the weather. "I don't suppose it has very much time left at this point – certainly not after the damage we did to it. If you would just let me finish the job…"

"No. Not yet." She turned to him, bending over with her hands on her knees as she lowered herself to his eye-level. "I need you to be patient for me. Can you do that, Barry?"

"Not… not yet? As in – soon?"

"Hopefully. I told you, I think we can both get what we want."

"I get to slice my body up and see what makes me tick?"

She grimaced. "If you must say it that way – yes. But I need you to do what I say until then, _or else._"

Barry grumbled for a bit, but at length he agreed. In spite of common sense, which told her she should not rely on his word, she put him back together, removing her gloves to transmute the parts she had severed back to his torso. When she was done reconstructing his body for the second time that day, she took up his meat-cleaver before he could retrieve it, holding it out of his reach as he glowered. "You get it back once it's time. Fair enough? Either that or I could destroy it now and have done with it."

Grudgingly, he agreed, and under her orders hoisted his human body onto his shoulder and followed her out of the alley, acting unwittingly as possibly the best bodyguard she could have had as she headed home – not a single soul dared approach them as they passed by. No one questioned it; people took note of the no-nonsense stride, the determination in her face, and most of all, the silver chain dangling from the state alchemist watch in her pocket, and decided it must have been government business – best not to interfere.

Of course, the butcher's knife gleaming in her right hand also made a strong impression.

When they arrived at her apartment, she instructed Barry to watch over his body in her workroom while she was gone. When he questioned where she was going, she answered simply, "Shopping."

"SHOPPING?!" Barry cried, though he did as she asked. "At a time like THIS?!"

"Ingredients," she said, by way of explanation, and was gone, dropping off the knife in her bedroom on her way out, when she was sure Barry could not see her doing so.

Out on the street, she stopped suddenly, the dark night sky above her reminding her of a key fact she had forgotten. It was nearing midnight now – grocery stores and their like were all closed in Central. Where was she to get her ingredients?

Beg, borrow, or steal. She wasn't one to beg, and she wanted to avoid stealing as much as possible – so borrow it was. Turning in the other direction, she began heading towards the only house she knew how to find, that was close enough to reach in one night.

When she knocked and he answered, Roy Mustang did not look pleased to see her. Nor did he look fully awake. "Steele? What the hell are you doing out alone at this hour?"

"Sorry for waking you, sir, but I've got a favor to ask. Can I borrow some stuff from you?"

"Depends on what it is, and what it's for," he answered, letting her in.

"Ammonia," she answered, running through what she needed in her head. "About 4 litres. Lime – a little less than two kilograms. Niter, sulfur, fluorine, silicon…"

Roy, whose eyes had grown narrower and narrower as he listened to the list, asked in a low voice, "What about the iron, the water, and the fifteen other miscellaneous elements? Did you forget those, or do you already have them at home?"

Kate blanched. "I – uh, it's not what you think, sir…"

"It better damn not be what I think, because what I think is that you are on the verge of committing the greatest taboo of alchemy!"

"No – sir, it's not human transmutation, I promise."

His eyes burned black as they bored into her. "Then what is it?"

"I…"

He stopped her suddenly, surprising her. "Let me guess, you can't tell me, right?" She frowned, wondering what had suddenly calmed his mood as he turned away from her, searching for the ingredients. "You know, I hear that enough from Fullmetal as it is. Don't you go making a habit of it, too." Gathering her materials more quickly than she had expected, he thrust them into her arms, wearing a small smile which did not reach his still-serious eyes. "Let me know how your little experiment turns out, Steele."

She thanked him profusely, albeit perplexedly, and left in a daze. What had changed his mind so quickly? Had he realized what she was up to – and if so, why hadn't he stopped her? She wished, not for the first time, that she could read the Colonel's mind. Shaking her head, she headed home again, taking care not to spill a drop nor lose a gram of what she had been given.

When she arrived home again, she gathered the rest of the ingredients quickly, and, pulling out a piece of chalk, dug through her books for the transmutation circle she would need to base her own off of. Hidden in one of them was a copy of what she believed to be the circle used for human transmutation, the great taboo – she thought if she altered it, just a tad, she would have what she needed to make her plan work.

"Where did you get all that?" asked Barry from the other room. She wished she hadn't left the door open; she had no time for explanations.

"I borrowed it. Now let me concentrate – if I mess this up, it'll be the end of you both."

Turning back to her books, she continued her search. At length, she found it, exhaling softly as she laid eyes upon the page she needed, wondering how she'd managed to keep it so long without trying it out, just once. It was _so_ tempting sometimes.

"Today's the day," she said to herself, and, after looking up a few other necessary things, as well as double-checking her ingredients, she began drawing the circle, glad for once that the floors in her apartment were hardwood, rather than carpet. Under her breath, she repeated the ingredients list to herself as she drew. It became a chant, calming her nerves as she worked, comforting in its simplicity and necessity. "Water, 35 litres. Carbon, 20kg. Ammonia, 4 litres. Lime, 1.5kg. Phosperus, 800g. Salt, 250 g. Niter, 100g. Sulphur, 80g. Fluorine, 7.5g. Iron, 5g. Silicon 3g. And fifteen other elements. Water, 35 litres…"

It took nearly an hour to perfect it, but eventually she was done, having checked and re-checked her work, cleaning up this line or re-evaluating that alteration, and always, always making sure all the ingredients were in place. When she stood back to look at it, she had to admit, the circle was impressive. The pile of elements in the middle, however, was not – it was hard to believe they were key to the success of her plan.

"You look like you're transmuting a pile of sludge," remarked Barry helpfully. "Can I have my knife back yet?"

"Not yet," she said distractedly. "I need – I need an image. Something to hold in my mind while I do this." She paused, glancing over at Barry's human body, which had just begun to wake up – until Barry smacked it hard with an iron fist, knocking it back out. She grimaced. "Not a good image." Racing back to her room, she looked through more books, but these were not alchemy books. These were encyclopedias, of famous people, infamous people, filled with faces to choose from. "If you could look like anyone in the world," she called out to Barry, "who would you pick?"

"What?! Why?"

"Never mind," she said, choosing a book of serial killers and opening to a random page. The face that greeted her was slender, but strong, with short blond hair and smallish dark eyes. He was, she admitted, kind of handsome – for a killer. She barely noticed the name - Jerry something, she thought. "This'll do," she murmured, and headed back into the main room.

"You have an encyclopedia of serial killers?" Barry commented as she set the book up so that she could see the face she had chosen. "My, you're a fascinating one, aren't you?"

"Shush." Poised crouching over the transmutation circle, having removed her gloves and replaced them with plain white ones (to null the tattoos on her palms), she stared across it at the picture in the book, focusing on nothing but that face. She took a deep breath, as though she were about to take a deep dive, and pressed her hands down at last on the circle, closing her eyes and seeing the inverse image of the face she'd memorized against her closed lids as a blue flash of alchemic light filled the apartment. In spite of herself, she thought for a moment of her mother, wondering if she could have brought her back if she tried. With an effort, she forced the thought out of her head and focused on the face she had chosen once more.

She waited until the light had faded, and even then she hesitated, afraid to open her eyes and find that she had failed. It wasn't the final step, but it was an important one, and without it the rest of the plan was irrelevant. It _had_ to work.

"You… you _made_ that?" Barry breathed, his voice full of astonishment, and Kate's eyes snapped open, lighting instantly upon the result of her work. Her eyes widened as she beheld the first stage of her plan as a complete success – there, in the center of the circle, lay a man identical to the man in the picture… well, almost. She saw with an odd sort of horrified amusement that, due to the brief distraction during which she'd thought of her mother, she had inadvertently changed the image of the body she'd created, making his face much more androgynous than she'd intended. Still, at least the rest of his body appeared to be fully functioning – and fully male.

"It's just a body," she said slowly, standing up. "Just a shell – nothing more. It has no soul. Which, for our needs, makes it perfect."

Barry's eyes (eye sockets, anyway) widened as he caught on to her plan at last. "You're giving me a new body – a human body."

She offered him a half-smile. "It's not really human until it's got a soul – yours, in this case. I'm hoping that, by giving you a real body, instead of hollow armor, your soul will create a new bond with the new body, severing the tie between you and your old body there. Once that tie is severed, the destruction of one should not necessarily mean the destruction of the other – you'll be able to chop _that_ body all you want, without dying. What do you say, Barry? Want to give it a try?"

"Well, it's not like I haven't been a lab rat before," he remarked wryly. "Why not?"

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**A/N**: Yes, I totally DID just do that. When I said Barry x2, I meant it! See, the thing is, as much as Barry's human body in the manga and in _Brotherhood_ makes sense, I don't like it nearly as much as the body he had in the original anime, which was adorably akin to his English voice actor, Jerry Jewell. So yes, that body lying in the middle of Kate's apartment is an incarnation of THAT form, because I like it better, and that whole mention of someone named JERRY in Kate's encyclopedia was a direct shout-out to Mr. Jewell, who I dearly hope we will see (er, hear) again when _Brotherhood_ is finally dubbed. Got it? I'll say it again - Barry! x2! Can you _imagine_? 8D Once again, Happy New Year's, y'all!


	13. Body & Soul

At last - the final chapter! I finished something - yayyy! Happy New Year indeed! And no, I know I never mentioned the explanation for Barry's body after all - turns out I went for the canon one after all, rather than making it a chimera. But I worked things out anyway, so there. :P Anyway, read, enjoy - and reviewing is welcome too! :3

BTW, kudos to anyone who spots the_ Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ allusion. :D

And, as a side note, I totally didn't plan on ending on Chapter THIRTEEN. Honest, scout's honor - but it sure worked out nicely, didn't it? 8D

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing except my own indescribable delight at being finished with this story. No more staying up till 5 in the morning writing about serial killers! YAY!

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**Chapter 13: Body & Soul**

"Now comes the hard part," Kate mused, standing with her hands on her hips, looking down at the body she had constructed.

"That wasn't the hard part?"

She shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. The _hard_ part is transferring your soul from that body," here she indicated his armor body, "to this one." She waved her hand at the human shell between them. "Without losing you in the process."

Barry fidgeted, wishing he had his cleaver in his hand to comfort him. "And you're sure this will work?"

"Of course not. But it's the best I could come up with. Now get over here."

Reluctantly, he walked over as she began erasing the transmutation circle that had created his new body. Then, she disappeared for a moment into her bedroom, and when she came back, she had a bloody left hand. Without bothering to explain, she went to the new body and, dipping her right finger into the blood, used it to draw a blood rune identical to the one that bound Barry's soul to the armor.

Once she was done with that, she went to the bathroom to wrap her hand in gauze. When she returned, she gazed at him, considering her options. "I need to be as quick as possible with this. I'll only get one chance. I need to break your original bloodseal, releasing your soul from the armor, and then bind it to this seal before it's fully…"

She was interrupted by a roaring sound coming from the workroom. Eyes wide, she turned to see that his old body had woken, and that it was attempting to break free from its chains. Barry started to laugh, but Kate frowned. "That was a rush job," she murmured. "If there's a weak link…" Her point was punctuated by another roar, as the chains snapped and the body lunged for them. She had a moment to wish, fervently, that she had kept Barry's knife handy, then –

Suddenly, there was an explosion of sound to their right as the door broke down, and the sounds of gunshots rang out just as Barry's body pounced. It howled, this time in pain, and fell short of its prey, writhing in pain on the floor as blood began to spurt from wounds to its chest and shoulders. Kate and Barry turned to find Riza Hawkeye standing in the doorway with a smoking gun, flanked by Roy Mustang and Vato Falman.

"Oh, you people again," said Barry, recognizing them from earlier encounters.

"What the hell? What are you guys doing here?" Kate demanded, speaking without thought, still shocked by the sudden turn of events.

"Well, that's a fine thank you for you," said Roy, as Riza lowered her gun. "Call it intuition, but I figured you might need backup." His eyes found the body in the middle of the floor, and his expression darkened. "I thought you said…"

"It's only a body," said Kate quickly. "It has no soul. Yet." Her eyes widened, and she felt to her knees beside Barry's dying body, realizing what Hawkeye's actions met. "What have you done?"

"I prevented what might otherwise have been a lethal attack," said Riza matter-of-factly.

"What were you trying to do?" asked Falman.

"I need to transfer Barry's soul into the body I made…" She trailed off, unable to finish the explanation.

"Then you better hurry," said Roy pointedly. "I'd say you haven't got much time left."

Setting her jaw, she nodded. Moving away from the body, she walked over to Barry-the-armor-suit. "Sorry," she muttered, and yanked off his head. "But I need easy access to your bloodseal. Now, follow me." Taking his arm, she led him to the center of the transmutation circle, and helped him kneel down beside the new body. With her right hand hovering over the blood rune she'd drawn on the body's chest, she placed her left hand over the old seal.

"If this doesn't work…"

"No time for that, Steele," interrupted Roy. "That body's not going to last much longer. Just get it over with."

She nodded. She closed her eyes, and counted to three – and with a decisive swipe erased nearly half of the bloodseal from the armor. Behind her, she heard the old body heave a last, final sigh as the lab rat's soul left it, and it died. Something brushed through her fingers as well, like a warm draft. _His soul?_ she thought – then, pressing her other hand down, activated the new seal.

The customary flash of blue light, a tingling in her fingers – then, nothing. She opened her eyes slowly, not knowing what to expect but afraid that she had failed after all. She moved so that both her hands were pressed against the new body's chest, feeling for a heartbeat, for breath – for _any_ sign of life. Still, nothing happened.

"Barry?" she whispered.

"It's possible the new body rejected the soul, or vice versa," said Roy quietly.

"No, it worked." She leaned over him, praying, begging him in her head to breathe, to move, to do _something_. "It had to have worked. I didn't… I don't kill people… I'm not a killer…" She covered her face, her insides twisting painfully as her face contorted into a grimace.

"Not yet, you're not," said a familiar voice. Kate dropped her hands back to his chest in surprise, feeling his first breath as his chest rose beneath them, meeting his eyes as they opened for the first time. He grinned. "But I have faith in you."

"It worked," she said, a slow smile spreading across her own face as horror was replaced with triumph. "It – it worked!" Unthinkingly, she threw her arms around his as he sat up, and he grunted, half in surprise and half in pain as she all but squeezed the air out of him.

Then she remembered, abruptly, that he was not dressed, and she released him quickly, averting her eyes as she stood, and helped him to his new feet. "Well, well, well. Not too shabby. Got any clothes for me?"

"You can borrow a coat," said Roy – and instead of offering his own, held out his hand for Falman's, who gave it up begrudgingly.

As the new Barry the Chopper pulled on the coat, he looked to Kate inquiringly. "My cleaver, may I have it back now?"

"What? Are you insane?" demanded Hawkeye when Kate moved to retrieve the knife. "You can't give it back to him!"

"We had a deal," she said simply. "If this worked, I told him he could – you know, chop himself up." She shrugged, making a face, and left.

"Sir," began Riza, turning to Roy – but Roy shook his head.

"Let him get this out of his system," said Roy to her quietly as Barry waited eagerly for Kate's return. "He'll be more cooperative if we let him do this first. Besides, the body is dead already."

Riza looked unhappy, but she nodded.

Kate came back with the cleaver, and handed it to Barry. "Remember what I asked of you before – don't hurt my friends."

"Are all _three_ of them your friends?" he inquired, waving the knife at them.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course they are."

He made a face. "You sure?" She glared at him. "Fine." He turned away, leaving the other three to look at Kate with astonishment. She shrugged in reply. "Now then," he said, advancing upon his old body, "at last, I get to do what no one else has ever had the privilege of doing – I get to slice up my own body and see what makes it tick!" He knelt down gleefully, and the others turned away, grimacing at the sounds of butchery as he methodically began to slice into the corpse, chatting happily with himself under his breath.

Though to the others it seemed like years, in fact it was in less than half an hour that Barry finally finished; when they turned back to face him, they were careful to avoid looking at the remaining meat, which was stacked neatly like steaks next to a clean skeleton and a pile of entrails.

"That was wonderful," said Barry. "Thank you." He smiled, almost evilly, at Kate.

She winced. "You're… welcome?"

"Now, I suppose you'll be wanting to cart me off to jail, or something like that," said Barry to Roy and the others. "But I would like you to know that I would rather you _didn't_."

"Well," said Roy slowly, "We can't exactly arrest you for something you did in a past life." Barry's eyes lit up. "_But_, we can't really let you loose on the streets, either."

"What about putting him back in Falman's custody?" suggested Riza; behind her, Falman cringed, shaking his head frantically. Barry, still grinning, winked at him.

"Not a bad idea," said Roy. "But he can't be a watchdog forever. He has other duties to attend to." Roy locked eyes with Kate.

Kate's eyes widened. "Sir, if you're thinking what I _think_ you're thinking…"

"Steele," interrupted Roy, as if he hadn't even heard, "I think I'll put him in _your_ custody. After all, he seems to listen to you – and from what I understand, you get along with each other quite well."

"Sir, you can't expect me to…"

"He's _your_ pet now," said Roy sternly, though his eyes still held a flicker of amusement. "_You_ take care of him."

"But – sir!"

"I'd keep a close eye on him if I were you, Steele. It'd reflect poorly on me if _your_ lapdog kills some poor innocent bystander. Not to mention it would be rather inconvenient to have to catch him and arrest him – again." Turning away, he began to lead the others out of Kate's apartment.

"Wait – sir – Mustang – what if –"

"I'm sure you can handle it, Steele," said Roy, without turning. She could imagine the smirk on his face nonetheless. "I have faith in you." Looking back, Falman shrugged apologetically at her as he and Riza followed Roy out the door – and then, they were gone, as quickly as they'd come.

Kate blinked. "I can't believe he just did that."

"Does this mean I get to go free?"

"No," she snapped. "It means you do what I say, exactly as I say, or else. First order – no more chopping people. Ever."

"WHAT?!" Barry cried, furious.

"Well, maybe not _ever_," she conceded, thinking it over. She turned to him, suddenly looking highly entertained. "You could be my bodyguard. After all, you're not the only serial killer on the loose. They still haven't found Scar, you know."

He scratched his chin, considering the idea. "A bodyguard? Wouldn't be the first time, I suppose. Would I get to chop people?"

"Only as a last resort," she said sternly. "But, if it comes down to us or someone attacking us – then yes, you get to chop them."

"I thought you weren't a killer?" he said mockingly.

"I'm not," she shot back. "But I'm also not intending on becoming a corpse any time soon. Which reminds me – don't you even _think_ about chopping _me_."

"Oh, too late," he said, smiling and taking a step towards her. "I've thought about it _plenty_."

She put her hands on her hips, pretending to be unimpressed although, secretly, she did still find it a bit creepy. "You kill me, and they'll execute you for _real_ this time."

"Oooh, that would be a shame," he sighed, and lowered his knife. "I suppose I'll have to let you live, for now."

"I suppose so," she said, although in her mind she was already making a mental note to lock _everything_ down before going to sleep. "Now, for the second order of the day."

"Yes, your majesty?"

She pointed at the mess he'd left behind. "Clean that up. _Now_."

"But I was thinking we could toss it in the oven, and…"

"No – don't say it! Just clean it up."

"I don't think I'm going to like living with you any more as a human than I did as a metal head," he grumbled, turning to clean up the mess.

"Maybe not, but you're stuck with me." She frowned, glancing away as he bent over in nothing more than Falman's coat to pick up the meat and bones. "You know, we're going to need to get you some clothes. And a bed."

"Oh, are you going shopping again?"

"_We_ are going shopping again, in the morning."

"It is morning," said Barry, pointing to the window. To her surprise, she saw that he was right; outside, the sky was just beginning to lighten with the first rays of the rising sun. She gazed at it for a moment, her expression softening.

"Barry?"

"Hmm?" He paused, standing half in and half out of the doorway, having stuffed the majority of the mess he'd made into a heavy-duty garbage bag he'd retrieved from the kitchen.

She looked at him, suppressing a smile at how goofy he looked in just the borrowed coat, carrying a giant garbage bag, his hair a mess and his movements still jerky as he grew accustomed to his new form.

"Yes, Kate?" he pressed impatiently.

She nodded towards his free hand. "Leave the knife here, or you'll scare the neighbors."

"But…"

"Just do it." Grudgingly, he put the knife down on the table, then turned and headed for the door a second time. "Barry?" she said again, unable to help herself.

"Yes, Kate?" he repeated, sounding slightly vexed.

She glanced at him sidelong, her lips curving up in spite of herself. "Nothing."

With a grunt he left, and she went to the window to look out at the sunrise – and to keep an eye on Barry to make sure he didn't try anything foolish, like murdering the neighbors. She thought suddenly of what she'd said to him about creators and destructors, days ago, though it felt like years. _Maybe I was wrong,_ she thought, watching him stumble out into the light, crossing the lawn to struggle with the trash in one hand and the trashcan held steady with the other. _Maybe we're all a bit of both. After all, destroyers create destruction, and creators destroy it. And bystanders – well, who wants to be a spectator of their own life, watching it pass you by without doing anything at all? I'd rather destroy my life completely than have no impact on it at all. Maybe we're all a bit of both, and maybe it's better that way._

_Try everything once, right?_

"Oh great, now I'm starting to _sound_ like him," she said to herself. Tossing her head back, she laughed out loud, sounding slightly hysterical, and, for once, not caring.

"What's so funny?" said Barry, appearing once more in the doorway.

"Nothing," she said, wiping a tear from her eye and turning to smile at him. "Nothing at all. Just thinking."

"About?"

"Life. The universe. Everything. It's a mess." She laughed again, and he raised his eyebrows at her. "It's a mess, but that's what makes it interesting. Kind of like you," she added as an afterthought.

"I see," said Barry, though it was clear he didn't. "So what now?"

"Good question," she said, sobering (though only slightly). "I have no idea." She paused. "But I know what Edward would say.

"'Walk on your own. Move forward. You've got a strong pair of legs – now _use_ them.' I guess it's time to take his advice. Time to move forward." She looked at him. "You ready?"

He grinned goofily, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture, looking ridiculous in Falman's too-big coat. "Do I have a choice?"

She chuckled. "No. Just wondering." She paused, looking him over. "You know, somehow, I never thought I'd end up like this."

"What, you mean hanging out with the infamous Barry the Chopper, the most FEARSOME…"

"Yes," she said quickly, cutting him off before he got into full-rant mode. "That. It's not exactly something I aspired to, you know? Still… I don't suppose there was anything I could have done differently."

"You don't regret it?" he asked, surprised.

She paused, then looked out the window, turning back to the sunrise. "No, I don't," she said softly, sounding a little surprised herself. "Not a moment of it."

"Not even that big fight you had with your brother?"

She hesitated then, a sadness coming into her eyes as she remembered the broken trust, the hurt, the loss. But she thought it over, and after a moment, she said, "No. Not even that. It's equivalent exchange, I suppose. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. I lost everything I had with my brother – relationship, love, everything. I don't know if Connor and I will ever be okay. But I didn't walk away empty-handed, and that's good enough for me."

"What did you get in return? What did you obtain?"

She stared at him for a long moment. "Never mind," she said at length, moving past him and heading out the door. "Let's get going. There's so much to chop… er, _shop_ for – and so little time. Let's go get you some clothes."

"Kate?"

She looked over her shoulder at him expectantly. "Yes, Barry?"

He leaned forward, looking hopeful. "Can I bring my knife?"

"NO!" Turning on her heel, she marched down the stairs, a very grumpy Barry the Chopper following unhappily in her footsteps. _This is gonna be a long day,_ she thought tiredly. _Still, if I know Barry, it will be an interesting one, at least._

She smiled.


End file.
